


The Newsroom: The Early Years

by Rickate



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Kink, Mutual Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pre-Series, Semi-Public Sex, Will & Mac 1.0
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 139,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickate/pseuds/Rickate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because this fandom could use a little more kink. The early years of Will and Mac told through a series of flashbacks while Mackenzie waits for his release from jail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In a New York Minute

"Hey," Don knocked on Mackenzie's door when he saw light coming out of her office on his way out.

"Hi, good show." 

"Thank you."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Don decided to come in and sit down. "How are you?"

Mac shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "I don't know."

"He'll be fine." He tried to reassure her. "Charlie told me they put him into solitary."

She nodded. "They didn't want to risk a lawsuit if the face of News Night with Will McAvoy got shanked in gen pop because word got out he was a former prosecutor."

"I guess that's a silver lining?" Don offered.

"How long before one goes insane because there's nobody to talk to?"

"Don't start thinking like that, Mac. He'll be out in a few days and back to driving you crazy in the control room before you know it." Don reached over her desk and clasped his palm around her hand. "Go home and get some sleep." He looked at her and gave her an encouraging nod before he rose from his seat.

"I can't," Mac confessed quietly.

"What?" He paused mid-air and plumped back into the chair.

"I can't go home." It's not home when he's not there.

"Okay," Don said slowly, "need a ride?"

She shook her head.

"Mac?"

She tilted her head and smiled at Don sadly. He'd been her first one. Intern that is. Before Jenna, she had Maggie, and before her, there was Jim, but it had all started with Don. She remembered that gangly, awkward kid standing forlorn in the middle of her bullpen at CNN. Such a stark contrast to the confident, cocky producer he'd grown into. She'd only been a senior producer herself then but George, the EP of McNews, where she worked, had left the files of the applicants for their summer internship on her desk. One kid had stood out: Donald Keefer. She chuckled and shook her head in disbelief.

"Mac?" Don called her name again concerned. "Are you alright?"

She came out of her reverie and found Don's worried eyes studying her face carefully. He probably thought she'd gone off the deep end when she started laughing. "I'm fine. I just remembered D.C. and couldn't help but laugh at that ridiculous name of our show."

"McNews?" He smirked.

"Yes!" She exclaimed and smiled widely. "God, how I hated that name!"

"As I recall, you made your position perfectly clear on that issue in several staff meetings."

"Will hated it, too, you know. He thought it was an awful pun but the marketing guys loved it."

"Because of Will's name?"

"That and because we were on at 5 o'clock when a lot of people might have the news on in the background while making or having dinner. The whole concept of the show was to give the audience a quick, easily digestible recap of the day's events."

"McNews. The fast food of news coverage." Don concluded.

"Exactly."

"That's funny. I worked on that show for months and never realized that."

"We certainly weren't broadcasting it." Mackenzie shook her head. "Gosh, I can't believe how long ago that was."

"I remember it like yesterday," Don grinned. "We had some crazy times."

"That we did." Mac agreed. 

* * *

"Oi!" Mac's voice rang through the busy bullpen.

Don Keefer fidgeted with his new lanyard nervously. His first summer internship in an honest to God real newsroom. 

"Are you my new intern?" The husky female voice with a strong British accent wanted to know. Don looked around to match the voice with a face until his eyes landed on Mackenzie McHale. She was leaning over a desk, glancing back and forth between him and whatever the IT guy was showing her on the computer screen.

"Err... yes," Don straightened quickly and swallowed hard. She quirked an eyebrow and looked at him amused. He tried again, louder and with more confidence this time, "Yes, ma'am."

"No need to be so formal, kid. I'm Mackenzie McHale, senior producer of McNews."

"I know. We've met at the interview." Don sprinted across the room until he was close enough to hold out his hand for a proper greeting. "I'm Don. Don Keefer."

Mackenzie met him halfway through the room and they shook hands. "I know. I'm the one who hired you."

"Right," Don looked at her flustered. He wiped off his sweaty palms on his jeans and mumbled an apology for his gross hands. Mac cocked her head to the side and mustered the gangly kid in front of her. His face was a study in nervousness.

"Have you been down to HR?"

"Err, yes ma'am." He held up the lanyard with the security tag for her to see.

"Good, welcome to McNews. Now let's get a few very important things straight right away."

"Okay," Don slid off his messenger bag and Mac watched him rummage for a pen and paper. She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head slightly. He popped back up, poised to take her dictation.

"Okay, first of all, and most important of all," She paused and looked at him for good measure. Don nodded that he was ready, so she continued,"Under no circumstances whatsoever are you to call me ma'am. I'm what, maybe five years your senior?"

She watched him scribble for a second longer before he paused and looked up again. Realization dawned on him as he slowly lowered the notepad, "You don't want me to write this down..." His voice trailed off quietly.

"No," she shook her head, "save the note taking for staff meetings and researching stories."

"Yes, ma'am." Don tried to put the pen and pad down casually on the desk behind him but only succeeded in making the situation more awkward. God, what was wrong with him today? 

"What did I just say?" Mackenzie crossed her arms. "It's either Mackenzie or Mac. Ms McHale if you want me making fun out of mothering you for the rest of the day."

"I'm sorry, ma...c." He corrected himself at the last minute but she was already no longer paying attention to him. Her eyes were trained on something behind him.

"Red or blue?" The news anchor of McNews stood behind him, holding up two ties for Mackenzie.

"Blue," Mac pointed at the grey-blue striped one in his left hand.

"Thank you." Just as quickly as Will McAvoy had appeared in the bullpen, he disappeared back into his office. 

Don looked at the senior producer amused.

"What?" Mackenzie shrugged her shoulders, "I'm moonlighting as a fashion consultant."

* * *

"You've come a long way,  _Donnie_." Mackenzie used his old nickname, which sure enough elicited an exasperated eye roll from him.

"You must have thought me an idiot," he groaned. "I was still so green behind the ears."

"You know my mantra."

"What you lack in experience you make up for with inexperience." He chuckled. "You still believe that?"

Mackenzie made a sweeping gesture to the newsroom behind the glass wall. "Quod erat demonstrandum."

"Touché," Don nodded, "I must admit I thought maybe you'd gone a little crazy after your break up and time as an embedded. Coming here, subjecting yourself to Will's tantrums, hiring a bunch of newbies..." He trailed off.

"I know," Mackenzie looked at the other EP without any ill-will, "everyone thought I was going to fail. And there were times I wasn't sure I was going to succeed, either. But Charlie said something to me when he offered me the job. He told me if I walked away from this opportunity, I would never have the right to complain about the news again."

"The man does give good speeches." Don hummed in agreement. 

"That's not why I took the job." Mackenzie confessed, "I took it because it was the only way to confront Will. He hadn't returned my calls or e-mails or letters in years. I just wanted _one_ conversation face to face with him. I didn't care if he fired me after that because I had a back up plan."

Don scoffed, "What was that?"

"A cooking show where a bunch of C-listers discussed current state of affairs while making lunch."

He roared with laughter when he heard that. "You must count your lucky stars every night that he didn't fire you that first week."

"Or second." Mackenzie chuckled.

"Or third," he guffawed. "Damn, Mac, you're one hell of a woman. I guess it's okay to say that now, since you're finally married to Will and I'm with Sloan, but I had the biggest crush on you that summer."

Mackenzie pursed her lips to smother a smile.

"You knew?" Don's jaw dropped a little.

She gave a quick nod. "And for the record I resent that _finally_ in your sentence."

"You've known all this time?" He looked at her baffled, then his eyes widened a little with fear. "Does Will know?"

"Honey, _everyone_ in that newsroom knew you carried a torch for me."

"Damn, I thought I was the master of stealth."

"Donnie, you stayed on the phone into the wee hours of the morning, trying to get a hold of my father on 7/7."

"You told me that was my only job for the day."

Mackenzie gave him a pitiful smile, "You'd been an intern with us for all but three weeks, I couldn't really put you on any assignments unsupervised yet but didn't want to relegate you to coffee runs entirely, either. I shouldn't have used you for personal reasons, though. That was unprofessional."

"Did you know I spent a term abroad?"

"No, I'm sorry if I read it on your resumé, I forgot."

"I was in Italy when the planes flew into the towers and I nearly lost my mind over the next forty-eight hours that it took me to get in touch with my family and friends." He saw her sympathetic look and reassured her quickly, "Fortunately, they were all fine but what I'm trying to say is I knew  _exactly_ what you were going through that day. Damn, if I was going to let you down."  

* * *

Around lunch time, Mac had sent out Don to pick up food orders for the senior staff who met in Will's office for a meeting. They shifted segments around from one block to another and discussed the list of questions for the expert interviews.

"Have you heard from your family yet?" EP George Jackson looked at Mackenzie who was checking her phone for messages. 

"No, I keep calling them but all I get is voicemail." She shook her head and dipped her fry into ketchup before she popped it into her mouth.

"Have you tried texting?" Will suggested.

"And e-mail." Mac sighed.

"The lines are probably down. We know what it was like after 9/11." George reminded her. "Try not to worry too much."

"I'm not," Mackenzie clarified quickly, "It just would be nice to hear their voices and know they're okay. I mean my sisters don't even live in London anymore, so they should be okay, but my brother does with his family. And I haven't spoken to my father in quite a while so I don't know if he's on assignment abroad or back home."

"Well, I heard Vodafone had to shut down their network earlier this morning to keep lines free for emergency calls." Don offered. "Chances are authorities are jamming cell towers to avoid coordination of potential future attacks."

Will squeezed Mac's shoulder, when he got up from his chair. "Hang in there and keep trying." He balled up the wrapping paper of his burger and tossed it into the trash can like a pro player dunking a basketball.

"Touchdown!" She gave a false cheer.

The men looked at each other knowingly and scoffed.

"What?"

"Do you even know the difference between football and basketball?" Will rolled his eyes.

"One ball is round and the other one's flat," she grinned at him triumphantly.

"And you call yourself an American?!?" Will stared at her in disbelief.

"Yeah, Mac, better hand in your passport." George joined in the good-natured ribbing.

Don instantly understood that they were trying to distract her from the current situation. "She's probably thinking about soccer right now." He gave her a cheeky grin.

"Well, you have to admit it's a bit _moronic_ to name a game _football_ where your _foot_ never actually _touches_ the wobbly thing _that isn't even a bloody ball_!" Mackenzie raised her voice continuously until she was shouting the last few words.

Don opened his mouth to explain about field goals but Will's look told him he'd be better served to save his breath. When it came to sports, Mackenzie McHale was a lost cause.

"And you wonder why you're not allowed to join fantasy football league at the office!" George chuckled.

"That's different!" Mac protested. "I feel like I'm back in school and waiting to be picked last for a team in sports."

"She has absolutely no idea how fantasy football works, does she?" Don leaned back in his chair and glanced at the other two men who shook their heads, smirking. He gave her a wide smile. "You can be on my team."

"Thank you!" Mackenzie beamed at him. "When do we start practice?"

"All yours," Will patted Don on the back as he ducked out of the office, laughing. 

* * *

At 3pm, Mackenzie's patience was wearing thin. Her father would have definitely gotten in touch with her by now to let her know everyone was ok. She scrolled through her address book until she found her contact at the British Embassy.

"Donnie?!" She called the young intern over and scribbled a number down for him. "I want you to call this number and get a twenty on Geoffrey McHale."

"Mac, I really don't think the British Embassy can help you locate relatives at home. There's really not much they can do from over here in this situation."

"Just call the damn number, will ya," Mackenzie hissed, "and find out the current location of Ambassador McHale."

"Ambassador?" Don gulped. "Your dad's an ambassador?"

She shushed him quickly, "I don't want anyone to think I got to where I am because my dad's a high ranking diplomat who's pulling strings for me." Mackenzie sighed. She knew Don didn't deserve her gruff treatment but she couldn't help herself. She'd been on edge since she woke up to the news of explosions in the London underground. That was then but in the meantime they'd learned the explosions were caused by bombs and not a power surge as initially suspected. She'd tried to play it cool when she came to the office, but with every hour that passed by without word from her family, panic seized her a little more. "I don't even know if he's in London right now. He might still be in Finland but I can't remember when his assignment ends. But they would know and they'd be able to get in touch with him. And my dad would move heaven and earth to find out if his kids are okay when there's a terror attack, so I just really, really need you to call this number and get me my dad on the phone so he can tell me that everything will be all right. That's your _only_ job for the rest of the day, do you understand me?"

"I won't go home before you spoke to your dad, Mac. I won't let you down." Don promised as he took the sheet of paper with the number from her.

* * *

"Hey," Will said softly as he sat down on the floor next to her in his office, "what are you doing here?"

"I just came in here to get away from them. I needed a few quiet moments alone." She was hunkered down behind his desk; her arms slung tightly around her tugged up legs. It reminded him of a child's pose.

"Mac," Will leaned over, "I sent the minions home hours ago. All of them. How long have you been in here?"

"I don't know," she sniffled and shrugged her shoulders, "what time is it?"

Will glanced at his watch, "A little after midnight." He also pulled out a handkerchief from his pants and offered it to her. She looked at it funny. Who was still carrying around handkerchiefs in their pockets these days? 

"It's clean, I promise," He offered quickly as an explanation when he saw her funny look. "And you you've been crying." Given her emotional state, he hesitated to ask the next question but he needed to know how to best console her. "Have you heard from your family?"

She shook her head.

"Good," he muttered. Until confirmed otherwise, he was going to operate under the assumption that they weren't among the vicitms.

She looked up shocked and confused.

"Well, not _good_ ," he quickly amended, "but I was worried you'd received bad news when I found you hiding in my office and crying." 

"I might as well." Mackenzie buried her head in her arms to smother a sob. "My dad would've called by now if everything was okay. Something bad must have happened." 

"You can't know that. For all you know they've been trying to reach you but can't because lines are still down or jammed. You know how these things work. You've reported on too many crises from too many hot spots around the world to not know how infrastructure can break down in the wake of riots and disasters."

"This is different." Mac lifted her head and leaned back against the sideboard that lined his office wall. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, while she  played with her necklace nervously.

"Why?"

Mackenzie opened her eyes again and held up one of the pendants for closer inspection. "My dad gave this to me. It was a gift for my first communion."

"Your family is Catholic?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "We're not bible thumpers but I guess you could say we're devout."

"It's pretty," Will told her. "My dad took me on my first fishing trip for mine."

"You're Catholic, too?"

"On paper," Will sighed. He'd lost his faith about a thousand beatings ago. "But I've been known to sneak into the occasional Christmas Mass. I like the festive music."

"We were living in Spain when I was in second grade. Let me tell you they take their religious traditions very seriously there. I got to dress up like a little bride." She rolled her eyes.

"I'd sure love to see a picture of that," Will smirked.

"And, my dad gave me this necklace with only one pendant on it." She lifted the original one to show him. "Over the years, I received a new pendant in every country we lived in."

"Military brat?" He looked at her with renewed respect and amusement.

"Diplomatic corps."

He didn't say anything but she could sense his surprise.

"You see, Will, my dad is an ambassador with all kinds of access, means and contacts to get in touch with his children anywhere in the world if required. He wouldn't rest until he'd made sure all of us are safe and sound. So for him to not have called by now can only mean one thing." She closed her eyes resigned and let her head fall back again. "Something's very, very wrong." Fresh tears spilled over her eyelashes as she admitted the unthinkable out loud for the first time all day.

"Hey, hey, hey," Will put his arm around her shoulder and Mackenzie buried her face in his chest. He rubbed her back with soothing strokes, waiting for her to let it all out. He felt pretty helpless in this situation. All he could think of were empty platitudes that would go very little in their way of comforting her. So he just kissed her head through her hair and rocked her gently, hoping she could draw a little strength from his companionship.

"Do you want me to call Brian for you?" He offered. She just shook her head and burrowed her face deeper into his shirt. After a few moments, Mac pulled back and apologized for ruining it.

"It's just a shirt." He dismissed her concern.

"Yeah, a six hundred dollar shirt with my make up smudges all over it." Mackenzie scoffed.

"Seriously?" His head jerked up. "This contraption's worth six hundred dollars?!"

She chuckled at his reaction. "It's Armani, Will, what did you expect?"

"They're not even that comfortable," he complained.

"But they make you look very dashing behind your news anchor desk."

"You think I'm dashing?" He wiggled his eyebrows and his chest puffed out a little bit.

"A regular Mr. Darcy." She teased him.

"Who?"

"Never mind," she pulled away and put some distance between them.

"Come on," Will groaned as he tried to get up, "I'll take you home. Brian's probably already waiting for you..."

When she showed no signs of moving, he gave up his efforts, too.

"We broke up," Mac said emotionlessly.  

"When did that happen?" He sat back down next her.

"He dumped me after the correspondents dinner."

"I'm sorry." He squeezed her shoulder softly. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it is humiliating and embarrassing," she lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him, "and I didn't want anyone to know lest I become the focus of the office gossip around the water cooler."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "You could've told _me_ , though. I would've kept my mouth shut."

"You must be gloating now," Mackenzie huffed. "You warned me what a pompous douchebag he is but I wouldn't listen. Three years! He's been stringing me along for three years and had no intention whatsoever of getting serious. I moved to D.C. for him for heaven's sake. I can't believe how stupid I was! I left my friends and a good job in London for him and what does he do? He dumps me. Just dumps me unceremoniously like some kind of toy you get bored with."

"First of all," Will said, "you know me better than to gloat over your misery. I'm sorry I was right. I'd actually hoped for your sake that he'd changed. Second, you were in love. We've all been there. And it's never easy when the rose-tinted glasses and blinders come off but you'll get over it."

"I feel so stupid. All the signs were there..." She trailed off and shook her head.

"Third, and most importantly, you deserve so much better than him, Mac. Someone who really loves you and doesn't feel threatened by your intelligence. He was _never_ worth your time so don't shed too many tears over him."

Her eyes told him that she didn't believe a single word of what he said. 

"Hey," Will put a finger underneath her chin and lifted her head, "he didn't dump you because you're not good enough. He dumped you because he realized you're way out of his league and he isn't man enough to handle that."

She opened her mouth in protest because Brian was the award-winning journalist and staff writer at Newsweek, while she was only a senior producer on a second-rate afternoon news show, but Will wouldn't let her utter a word and just tipped up her chin to close her mouth. 

"I've dated my share of women, Mac, so I know an exceptional one when she comes along."

She smiled weakly. He tried to hide it, but Mackenzie had always suspected that underneath his gruff demeanor slumbered a lovable curmudgeon. For reasons beyond her, he'd taken an instant shining to her when she joined his newsroom almost two years ago. Along with George, he'd taken her under his wing and the two men became somewhat of a combined father figure to her. Hearing him wax poetics about her virtues as a woman was just a tad little bit weird and added to her overall confusion after the day she had. Still, his words flattered her, and she wanted to believe them so desperately.

Mackenzie furrowed her brows and glanced at him skeptically, "You really think that?"

" _He's_ the fool here, Mackenzie. You're a beautiful, smart and kind woman. Any man should feel so lucky and win your heart." The corners of her mouth turned up into a shy smile. He leaned in a little further and whispered, "Trust me, Mac. No man in his right mind would ever let you go."

She could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her eyes darted around as his face came closer. He'd always been the complete opposite of Brian. Here was the brilliant, young, up-and-coming iconoclast, and there was the experienced, unflappable news veteran. Will tugged her chin a little forward and touched her nose with his. Her heart started racing while everything around her seemed to happen in slow motion. Maybe it was all just in her mind or maybe his movements were deliberate to allow her time and space to reject him. Her eyes fluttered close when his lips brushed over hers ever so lightly. The kiss was over far too quickly for her taste. She refused to open her eyes for several moments, hoping his lips would return to her mouth. When that wasn't the case, she whimpered quietly. 

Will didn't know what had gotten into him. There were probably a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. Taking advantage of an obviously confused and vulnerable woman, from his own staff no less, ranked right at the top. Except, this was _Mackenzie_ and he'd never been more seriously tempted to dip his pen into company ink than the day she walked into his newsroom. Damn George for hiring her and damn her for being so adorable and sweet. If she hadn't been seeing that good-for-nothing print journalist, he would have long broken his self-imposed rule of never getting involved with staff. And sure enough, the moment he found out she was on the market, his dick commandeered his brain and body like a sophomore on autopilot.

Mackenzie reached up to palm his cheek and studied his face. For a man his age, his features were quite handsome. Again, the complete opposite of Brian whose rebellious streak extended from anti-establishment to wearing scruff all the time. More than once he had made fun of Will's vanity, sneering at pictures of him behind his anchor desk, well-coiffed and clean-shaven. She quite liked how soft his skin felt under her hand and slid it back into his hair, playing with a few strands.  Mac gazed into his eyes. Funny, she'd been staring at close-ups of him for months now and had never noticed before how blue they were. She pulled his head closer and flicked her eyes down to his mouth, wetting her lips.  

Will's eyes fluttered as he felt her nose glide along his. She traced the thin line of his mouth with her tongue, waiting for him to part his lips and allow her inside. He surprised her by letting his tongue dart out and swipe through her mouth, making her moan and press her body into his. They couldn't hold back any longer and deepened the kiss while their arms wrapped tightly around each other.  

* * *

"You saw us," Mackenzie realized suddenly. "That night. In Will's office."

Don played coy and wiggled his head. "Nah."

"No, I remember now. We jumped apart when you barged in."

He scratched the back of his head and admitted, "I'd been searching for you all over the building. I'd finally managed to get a line to your father and suddenly you were nowhere to be found."

"I had to get away from everyone," Mac confessed, "and I knew none of you would dare go into Will's office."

"I looked for you in the control room, the studio - hell, I even peeked into the ladies' room, which was thankfully deserted at that late hour. So I called your cell and followed its ringtone back into the empty bullpen, where it rang on your desk. I almost left when I saw movement in Will's office. I figured I'd ask him if he knew where you were." He propped his arm up on her desk so he could rest his his face in his palm.

"And found me instead."

"I knocked but you guys were pretty much engrossed with each other. I thought you'd noticed me, when you withdrew a little, but then you _really_ dove back in." His cheeky grin made Mackenzie blush. "So I walked back out and returned making lots of noise to give you some warning."

"Which we obviously didn't heed, either."

"It was pretty funny when you jumped apart like two teenagers caught making out on their parents' couch, especially considering I had your father on hold." Don chuckled.

"Will had a really nasty bump on his head for a few days from where he hit the corner of the desk."

"I'm surprised that thick Irish head of his didn't break the furniture," Don retorted, which made Mackenzie laugh out loud.

"I'm sorry you had to live through that awkward moment, Don."

He just shrugged his shoulders as if it hadn't been a big deal. 

* * *

"I've found your father," Don fumbled with the Blackberry in his hand.

"What?" Mackenzie looked at the young intern as if he'd grown a second head.

"Your dad," Don repeated, casting his eyes down embarrassed when he met McAvoy's inquisitive glare.

In a flash Mac let go of Will and snatched the phone out of his hand. "Daddy?" She rushed past him out into the deserted bullpen for a little privacy. In the meantime Will had risen from the floor, still rubbing the back of his head and entered a silent stare down with the new kid.

"I didn't see anything," Don blurted out eventually.

Will inclined his head a little and studied the young intern for a moment longer, before he walked past him and patted him on the shoulder. "You did good tonight, kiddo. Go home and get some sleep. Pitch's not until eleven tomorrow." He disappeared into his bathroom to change back into his street clothes.


	2. I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight

Mackenzie pulled Will inside her apartment, allowing him to press her against the wall. They shared a frenzied kiss as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. She was just short enough that he had to dip his knees a little when he trailed his lips down the side of her throat. Mac threw her head back and let out a low moan. He ground his erection into her crotch until she spread her legs a little wider to accommodate him. If there had been any doubts left as to where the night was headed, they'd just been erased completely.

Will's fingers traced the collar of her blouse and fumbled with the buttons impatiently. He couldn't wait to reveal her youthful body to him in all its glory. He had spent hours fantasizing about her figure, her petite breasts and long legs. It occurred to him that he was now in a position to do something about that and abandoned her blouse in favor of letting his hand glide down her side, back to her ass, and down her back thigh. Mac knew instinctively what he wanted and lifted her leg to hook it around his hip. He pushed her skirt up and stroked her thigh. She wiggled her hips to chase after his fingers when they came dangerously close to her panties.

Will chuckled and nipped her lips playfully. She shoved his chest gently back and gave him a coy look. He groaned when she sunk her teeth into her lower lip and gave him _that_ smile. His heart nearly did a somersault when she tugged her blouse out of her skirt and lifted it over her head. Blinking once, he was caught a little off guard by her latest move, but he sprang quickly into action and hooked her other leg around his hip, too. She squealed from the unexpected turn of events and folded her hands behind his neck.

Giggling, Mac ran her fingers through his hair and showered his face with little kisses while he carried her to her bedroom. His progress was slowed down by his protesting knees and her blocking his view in unfamiliar territory. Finally, the bed blocked his legs so he leaned forward and lowered her gently to the mattress. She let go of his neck and ran her fingers down the front of his shirt. Mackenzie raised her head to kiss him hungrily while her hands reached for his belt and removed it quickly. Will grabbed his shirt by its collar and tore it over his head, anxious to feel her bare skin brush against his.

"Hang on a sec." He stopped her, before she shoved his pants down his ass, and drew his wallet from his pocket. While he retrieved the condom, she pressed hot kisses over his abs. He flinched a little and she filed the information that he was a little ticklish away for later use. Then she pushed his pants all the way down his legs until he stood in front of her clad in only his boxers. 

"Someone's excited," She teased him when she saw the tent. Mac ran her fingers along the waistband before she tugged his shorts down. She giggled when his cock sprang free. The tip was glistening and she licked her lips in anticipation. Will's hand shot out and held her back, shaking his head. She quirked one eyebrow and he smiled apologetically.

"I seem to have the sex drive of a twenty year old tonight but unfortunately not his refractory period." He explained and kneeled on the bed. Mackenzie scooted back to make room for him and he chased after her lips for a passionate kiss. Will hovered over her for a moment while he tried to shake off his pants and boxers completely. She laughed against his lips and helped him with her toes.

He broke away from her mouth and raked his fingernails softly up her leg. Mac shivered and squirmed below him, enjoying the prickly sensation on her skin. He lowered his head and trailed kisses down her throat and breasts. His mouth latched onto her hard nipple through the thin silky fabric of her bra and suckled gently. Mac gasped and shoved her tit into his face. Will yanked down the cup and ran his tongue around the stiff bud teasingly. He didn't miss how her hips arched off the mattress, seeking contact with his cock.

Will reached up under her skirt and pulled down her panties. They were soaked in her arousal and he held them to his nose to sniff her scent. Their eyes locked over the bunched up fabric in his hand. He let his hands glide up on either leg, pushing her skirt higher and higher until he caught his first glimpse of her pussy. He groaned and felt his dick twitch excitedly. A drop gathered at the tip and Mackenzie stared at it fascinated, watching it slowly drip.

Will dived in to lick her pussy but Mac caught his head and pulled him up for a deep, intimate kiss. It was almost as if she was embarrassed to have him go down on her. He felt sorry for her because she'd probably never been with a real man who put her needs before his in bed. Only selfish little pricks like Brian Brenner who didn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman. Will was determined to show her tonight how a good lover gave as much as he took, so she'd never put up with the likes of Brian Brenner again.

"Please, Will," she whispered into his ear and bucked her hips. He felt her wet folds slide over his bare cock, coating his shaft in her arousal.

He lifted his head, looking for the spot where he must have dropped the condom earlier. Meanwhile Mackenzie ditched the rest of her clothes with the speed of light. Her hands joined his, searching the sheets for the rubber until she let out a frustrated groan.

"Found it," he tore impatiently at the corner of the small square packet, making it worse. She snatched it out of his hand with a sloppy kiss and ripped the wrapper open in one smooth motion. Will sat back and they both looked down at his cock, standing up proudly. She placed the tip on his cock head and rolled the rubber slowly down his shaft. He felt big in her hands and throbbed visibly.

Will kissed her passionately and pushed her back into the sheets, settling between her legs. Mackenzie opened her thighs wider, welcoming his weight on her body. His cock nudged her folds apart as they made out.

"I want you," she breathed into his ear.

"I've wanted you since the day we met," he confessed and reached down to line himself up at her entrance. Slowly he pushed in, allowing her muscles to stretch around his erection and adjust to his girth. Mac gasped and closed her eyes because the feeling of him filling her was just overwhelming. They kissed again, their tongues drawing lazy circles around each other until he'd sunk his whole length into her.

"You ok?" He rested his forehead against her and looked into her eyes. She smiled and nodded quickly, already rolling her pelvis tentatively. They moaned out loud together at the sensation of being joined for the first time and rocked their hips together faster and harder.

"Will," she gasped his name breathlessly.

"Yes?" He looked up into her eyes, ready to stop if he caused her discomfort.

"Nothing," she shook her head and pressed her nose into his neck, "just..." She sighed completely overwhelmed by the experience, unable to put her feelings into words.

"I know," he chuckled and thrust into her slowly.

"You can go faster, you know?" She hummed into his ear and he immediately picked up speed. Her hands reached down to cup his ass and he thrust deeper into her.

She sighed his name again, which spurned him on to fuck her harder. Mackenzie nipped his lips playfully, flicking her tongue over his upper lip before sucking on it. Will's tongue darted out and swirled around hers, forcing it back inside her mouth so he could explore there. Her breathing changed and he slowed down to long and measured strokes, sensing she was nearing her climax. 

"Come for me," he murmured as he impaled her slowly once again and made all her nerve endings tingle.

"Will," she moaned and squeezed her walls around his cock.

He reached between them and rubbed her clit as he plunged his cock all the way in. "Come fore me, Mac."

She cried out as her pussy contracted rhythmically around his shaft, holding his throbbing cock in a vice grip. He loved how vocal she was in bed. Her white skin flushed completely and he could see her abdominal muscles flex as her entire body succumbed to her orgasm. She was quickly turning into an incoherent, spineless mass of limbs. Will brought her down from her high with sweet kisses and slow thrusts, approaching his own point of no return. 

Mackenzie rubbed her face into his neck, humming content, as the last vestiges of her orgasm were rippling through her body.  She kissed his sweaty skin and mumbled into his ear, "Your turn, babe. Come for me, Will."

He drove into her tight pussy, hard and deep, his balls drawn up tight. Suddenly Mackenzie sunk her teeth into his neck and sucked on his skin gently, which triggered his release. With a grunt, he exploded inside her and spilled his seed into the condom. She counted four more grunts until he went still and his entire body shuddered. Will rolled off of her because he didn't want to crush her and neither his knee nor his elbow could support his weight for much longer. He was utterly spent and exhausted.

He knew he should get up and dispose of the condom before he made a mess but he just needed a minute to calm his frantic heart beat. Mackenzie turned on her side and watched her lover pant for air, one arm thrown over his forehead.

"Don't tell me," she teased him, "I literally took your breath away."

He chuckled and removed his hand, letting his head loll over to smile at her. She closed in for a slow, sweet kiss.

"Shit, Will, that was fantastic," she sighed and cuddled into his chest. "I don't think I ever came so hard in my entire life."

He gave her a lopsided grin, "Obviously, you haven't had sex with the right men then."

Mac reached down and cupped his shrinking erection. She tore off the condom and handed it to him unceremoniously, pausing a moment to take in the respectable load. While he tied a knot into it, she reached over to pull a few tissues from the box on her nightstand and cleaned them up. She tossed them into the trash can beside her bed and he followed suit with the condom.

"It's late," Mackenzie glanced at her alarm clock, "so why don't you stay?" Will watched her arm stretch over his head. "I'll reset the alarm for 8.30. Two hours enough for you to change clothes and get a shower at your place before pitch at eleven?"

He yawned so he just nodded.

"Good," Mac smiled and pecked his lips before they snuggled together. "Night."

"Night," he mumbled and felt her play with his chest hairs until she dozed off. Will stared into the darkness quietly. He was well and truly fucked in every sense of the word. There was no coming back from the line he'd crossed with Mackenzie tonight. Sleeping with a subordinate was just asking for trouble, which was why he'd never fucked anyone from his newsroom before, much less dated. He had a gnawing feeling that his life was going to be turned upside down.

* * *

"For the love of God, George," Will moaned sleepily into his phone when it woke him up early the next morning, "there'd better be Martians landing in Times Square because I just fell asleep. It's the middle of the night!" He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness. He was a little disoriented because the light fell through the window differently than usual and he had a hard time identifying his environment.

"Who's George?" The voice on the other end inquired curiously.

Will groaned frustrated because he was not in the mood for games. "Who's this?"

"Brian?"

Will's eyes snapped open and his synapses started firing. Oh shit. He was suddenly wide awake and held the phone in front of his face to check the display. _5:42am. Incoming call. Dad._ Oh shit, shit, shit. He had accidentally answered Mackenzie's phone, thinking it was his BlackBerry. And now her dad thought he was her ex. Will frantically searched for a good cover story for them.

"Where's my daughter?" Her father's voice was laced with panic now. The poor man was probably already picturing his sweet baby girl being held for ransom somewhere in a moldy basement and getting ready to call in Scotland Yard _and_ the FBI.

"Sir, she's probably still asleep." Will glanced at Mackenzie, slumbering peacefully under the sheets and completely oblivious to the situational comedy unfolding around her. "We must have switched phones at work again yesterday."

"Oh, okay. I'll try her landline then. Thank you and my apologies for waking you so early, Mister..."

"McAvoy," Will supplied. He pumped his fist a little, pleased with his quick thinking.

"You're the news anchor," Geoffrey McHale recognised him.

"I am. Though if I may, sir," Will glanced again at the sleeping body next to him and felt oddly protective, "she's out like a light. Poor thing's beyond exhausted after the day she had. Maybe you could wait a little to call her? Unless it's important, I mean."

There was a long moment of silence as the implication of Will's statement hung in the air. 

"Sir?" Will tried to get the ambassador's attention. "Is everything all right over there? Did something happen?"

"No, no," Geoffrey McHale was quick to reassure him. "The little ones are a little shaken up, understandably, but no one in our family was hurt."

"That's good, sir," Will said.

"Will you let her know I called when she wakes up?" The ambassador requested. Will winced, realizing his slip-up.

"Any message I can relay?" Will scrubbed a hand over his face and neck.

"Just tell her there's a reservation in her name for United's red-eye to Heathrow after Friday's show."

"Mackenzie's visiting you this weekend?"

"Yes, we discussed it on the phone last night. She said it would be ok for her as long as she's back Sunday night to make Monday's pitch?"

"Oh, yes, of course, but that's..." Will trailed off before he could utter 'stupid'. She'd be spending more time on planes than with her family. "... not very effective."

"I know," he father sighed, "but she said she can't request vacation time on such short notice. It would mean a lot to her mother, though, to see her this weekend, with everything that's going on, even if she can't stay until her birthday."

"Mackenzie's?"

"Birthday?"

"Yes, it's next week?"

"Tuesday, why?"

"How about you change reservations and book your daughter on a return flight on Wednesday."

"What about work?"

"She could really use a little time off, she's working too hard. Contrary to what she thinks, we _are_  absolutely capable of doing the news without her for a few days. You know what, why don't you get her on an earlier flight today, too, if you're already changing her reservation. Something around noon, that way she'll have the whole weekend, too."

"Much as I appreciate you looking out for my daughter, I don't want you to get in trouble."

"I'm managing editor, I can give my staff a few days off." Will laughed out loud and replied cockily, "Besides, I'm the Mc in McNews, what are they gonna do? Fire me? I'm literally irreplaceable. Without me, there's no show unless they want to point the camera at an empty chair for an hour."

"Famous last words," Mackenzie's father snorted amused, "I hope you're right. You know she is going to kick your yankee butt in the morning when she finds out you made plans for her behind her back."

"Then I better hide her high-heels," Will joked.

After a few more minutes of small-talk, the men bid each other good-bye. Geoffrey promised to text his daughter the new flight details and Will assured him he'd take care of matters on his end. After he hung up, Will snuggled back under the sheets with Mac. She flipped onto her stomach and wrapped her arm possessively around his stomach. He brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead softly. 

* * *

Mackenzie woke up to an assault by Will's mouth on her face and neck. When he felt her muscles stretch below him, he captured her lips in a sweet kiss. "Morning."

She opened her eyes slowly and gave him a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi."

She went in for another kiss but after a few moments Will pulled away.

"I need to go to the office and you need to get ready for the airport."

"Why?" She frowned confused.

"Because your plane leaves in four hours and you still have to pack."

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record," she paused for a beat, "why?"

"You're booked on United 704 to Heathrow at 1.25pm."

"Why?"

"It's an early birthday gift from your father and me. There's a text with flight details from him on your phone."

"What?" Mac sat up and stared at him confused. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Your father and I agree that you're working too hard so I've made an executive decision and gave you four days vacation." Will explained while he slipped into his shoes. "Don't worry, I'll square it off with George. Go and be together with your family. It'll do you good after yesterday."

"Wait," Mackenzie put her hand on his upper arm to stop him from getting up, "when did you talk to my father?"

"He called earlier while you were asleep." He turned his head a little to get a better look at her.

"Please, tell me you didn't answer my phone."

"I didn't answer your phone." 

"Are you lying to me now?"

"No," He said, nodding vigorously.

"Will!" She whined and slid back into the sheets. "Why would you _do_ such a _stupid_ thing? Now I have to..." She trailed off and ended that sentence with a low growl as she pulled the sheets over her head.

"I'm sorry, okay? It was dark, I was half asleep..." he apologized. "I fucked up... _but_ I'm about to make it up to you."

"By sending me to London like an inconvenient mistress that's suddenly become a problem for you?"

"I... hadn't really thought about it that way," he conceded, "though I can see how you might've got that wrong impression. But I promise you that's not at all what this is. I'm not embarrassed we slept together, you're not my dirty little secret and, for the record, I had a really great time last night." He tugged the sheets down until he could see her face. "If I didn't need to be in the office like five minutes ago, I'd prove it to you all over again. Now, you go to London to see your family and we take a raincheck on that talk we need to have when you get back. Ok?

She nodded. "What did you say to my father?"

"That we're only colleagues. I drove you home to make sure you got there safely. You invited me for a cup of coffee because it was late and you wanted to make sure I didn't fall asleep behind the wheel. We talked until we fell asleep."

"Did he believe you?"

"Judging by the tone he used when he repeated 'just friends, hmm' after me, I don't think he bought it." Will pulled a face. "He sounded equally perplex and amused."

Mackenzie groaned, "Why didn't you just wake me?"

"Because you looked so peaceful and I got the sense it was just a social call." Will patted her leg and struggled to get up. "I think he was a little off with the time difference because he called shortly before six." He leaned down to kiss her on her head. "He wouldn't happen to subtract with his fingers, too?"

"Oi!" Mackenzie protested, "I do _not_ subtract with my fingers!" 

Will pursed his lips to hide his smirk.

"Go to work!" She crossed her arms annoyed.

"Don't pout or your face will stay that way," he quipped and blew her a kiss, dashing out of her apartment before the flying pillow could hit him.  


	3. Love Hurts

"Hang on a second," Don held up his finger, remembering something. "Oh my God, you're the one who gave Will that ginormous hickey! You're vampire girl!"

"Who came up with that stupid nickname anyway?" Mac growled and lowered her head, letting her bangs fall over her eyes like a protective shield.

"I believe it was Deidre in make-up." Don laughed. "Oh man, you should have seen Will that day in the office. First he showed up late, so everyone's eyes are automatically on him. Then he explains that _you_ are in London because _he_ gave you a couple of days off to be with your family in the wake of the attacks. Meanwhile the girls are sticking their heads together, giggling like school girls, and the guys are bumping fists with him on his way to an empty chair."

Mackenzie couldn't help but grin. "What did George do?"

"He said, and I quote, 'Ladies, would one of you please be so kind and hand Will your mirror?' So then Kristen, Stacy and Deb all reach into their handbags while Will's completely oblivious. I mean absolutely no fucking clue oblivious. The whole table's snickering and subtly taking snapshots of his hickey and he has no idea he's walking around with a bruise the size of a quarter. Finally, Kristen slides her mirror down the desk and he picks it up, inspecting his reflection. I'll never forget that look on his face when he finally spotted it." Don guffawed. 

* * *

"William Duncan McAvoy!" Deirdre's exclamation had the news anchor flinch in his chair. "You've got some 'splaining to do, mister." He felt uneasy as he watched her prowl around him in the mirror.

"Deirdre," Will glanced up at her reflection, "if I have to explain this to you, we really need to discuss the poor state of education in this country. Did your school really have no bleachers?"

"Don't get smart with me, McAvoy!" The cosmetician put her hands on her hips and fixed the news anchor with an evil glare. "I know what a hickey is. What I meant was what on earth were you thinking?"

"I was thinking Deidre will fix it?" He cracked a smile but swallowed hard when her eyes narrowed. 

"You _definitely_ weren't thinking with your _big_ brain, McAvoy." She sighed and inspected the damage. "I don't suppose wardrobe can put you in a turtleneck for tonight's broadcast?"

"In the middle of July?" He looked at her skeptically. "I'm hip but not that hip. I'm announcing the news, not the new iPod!"

"You tell your girl if she lays hand on you like that again, I am personally going to hunt her down. I don't care who she is, no one messes with my man." She ran her fingers through his hair and swiveled him around in his chair until she had him where she wanted.

"You don't know how much it warms my heart to hear you say that."

She prodded the blemish and sighed, "That's gonna be an ugly one, too. Your little vampire girlfriend really did a number on you there." 

"Can't you just put on a lil bit of concealer or something?"

"Can I..." She trailed off and huffed. "I'm a _beau_ -tician, William, not a _ma_ -gician. I should let you go on the air like this to teach you a lesson, that's what I should do."

He sighed and studied his own reflection while Deirdre set to work on his love bite. Normally he told the women he dated to stay clear of his neck and throat. It never occurred to him to lay down the same ground rules with Mackenzie, since she worked with him and saw him on the screen five days a week. Not that she did it on purpose, though. But they weren't even drunk, so neither of them had a good excuse why they could get carried away so much. Except...it had felt so good when she'd sunk her teeth into his neck just as he'd started spilling his seed inside her. And when she started to soothe the irritated skin with her tongue, he really didn't want her to stop ever.

He glanced at the clock. 4.20pm. She was probably still in the air. Maybe she'd text him to let him know she landed safely once she touched ground again. 

"I'm sorry, Dee," Will apologized sincerely. "It was a one time thing, so it won't happen again."

"It better or I'll wring your neck myself with my own bare two hands," Deirdre declared and Will knew she was just crazy enough to make good on her threat.

* * *

"I didn't do it on purpose," Mac huffed. 

"Of course not," Don scoffed.

"I'd completely forgotten about this," she groaned and let her head fall against the desk with a soft thud.

"Well, to be fair you'd probably remember it more if you'd been there to watch Will's hickey run through the whole gamut of all the colors of the rainbow," he grinned. Mackenzie just moaned without looking up. He couldn't help but tease her a little, "It was all the staff could talk about for a few days. There was a lot of speculation about the identity of vampire girl, though funnily enough your name never came up."

"Helped to be in London," Mac grumbled.

"That should have tipped us off in the first place. When's the last time Will gave someone paid vacation spontaneously?"

"Err...three years ago when you absconded with half of his staff?"

"Right," Don looked a little contrite.

"My name really didn't come up even once?" Her head perked up a little.

"Nope."

"I don't know if I should feel flattered or offended by that." She bit her lips and pondered that dilemma.

"Don't overthink it, Mac."

"No, seriously? Why wasn't I a contender? Am I not good enough for him? I'll have you know I'm a very beautiful, sensual, intelligent, highly educated, successful professional woman. I'm in my sexual prime. I'm a real catch."

Offended it was, Don sighed. They were entering uncomfortable territory again, so he just stood up. He stuttered, "I really should get going, Sloan's waiting for me."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mac nodded. "Have a good night."

"You, too." He paused in the door and turned around once more, "Take it easy, Mac. And call if you need anything. Anytime. I mean it. I don't care if it's 3am. We're all here for you until Will gets back."

"Thank you." Her voice choked up a little and she shooed him out before he'd make her cry. 

* * *

The moment Mackenzie stepped back into the bullpen, the staff gathered around her like worker bees converging on their queen. They asked her how London was, albeit not completely altruistic in nature, as they were fishing for information about the recently arrested suspects in hopes of doing an exclusive on the show. 

"What did I miss?" Mac asked her coworkers.

"Hockey lock-out's over!" Ben practically shouted. Mackenzie could only chuckle and shake her head at the booker's excitement.

"Well, Rehnquist's been hospitalized yesterday, but no word yet on whether he'll resign for health reasons,"  Paul informed her.

"Palestinian Jihadists claimed the suicide bombings in Israel," Kristen recalled, "a fifth victim died earlier today."

"Put those two on the board," Mac said automatically.

"Already done," the associate producers winked at her.

"There's a new start-up company called YouTube," Frank began and everyone groaned.

"... that's going to revolutionize the internet," Wesley rolled his eyes, "we got it the last five times you tried to pitch the story this week." He glared at the digital producer before he turned to Mac, "Don't listen to him, George and Will already _both_ nixed the idea."

"There are rumors they found Jacques Roche," Don offered to bring the conversation back on track.

"The Haitian journalist?" Mac followed up. When he nodded, she asked, "Dead or alive?"

"Well, I heard through the grapevine that police found a dead body in Port-au-Prince this morning that could be him but he's been so badly disfigured they couldn't positively ID him yet."

Everyone closed their eyes and shook their heads. Mackenzie took a deep breath, "So torture and mutilation. Keep on it. Alright, who's our contact with police in Haiti?"

"Perkins," Ben was already on his way to the desk. "I see what I can find out."

"Mac!" Will, who'd been lured out of his office by the commotion in the bullpen, called her name. "You're back!"

"Oh," Stacy snapped her fingers, "and Will's got a new girlfriend. She's a feisty one, too"

"Okay," Mac nodded absentmindedly because her thoughts were still on the story. Suddenly her head jerked up, "Wait, what?"

"Show her your badge of shame, Will." Kristen nudged the news anchor as she passed him by on the way to her station.

Mackenzie stared at Will in disbelief. She'd only been gone for six days and he'd already found himself a new girlfriend?! Boy, the man certainly lived up to his reputation as a serial dater. She couldn't exactly point her finger at him, though, after all she'd been using him to get over Brian. 

"Are we working in a CNN newsroom or for a high school magazine?" Will shook his head with a hint of indignation.

"What's she talking about?" Mac crossed the room in a few quick strides to grill him. 

"Show her or I will," Deb threatened him.

Will yanked down his turned-up collar, "There. Happy now?" 

"Will!" Mackenzie gasped shocked when she saw the ugly greenish-purple-yellowish blemish on his skin. "Who did this to you?"

"Gentlemen don't kiss and tell," he replied stoically. She tilted her head and looked at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion, which he filed away for later.

"We call her vampire girl because Will refuses to give us her real name." George explained as he joined the impromptu party in the bullpen. "Welcome home, Mac."

"This looks awful! You can't go on air like that!" She turned to Jackson, "Please tell me you didn't put him behind the anchor desk looking like this?"

"Of course, not! What do you think I am? An amateur?" George deadpanned, "We put him into chaps and gave him nipple clamps, too!"

"Idiots!" Mackenzie shook her head at Will and Jackson bumping fists, pleased with their joke. She inspected the bruise closer, touching his soft skin carefully. "That looks like it might actually hurt!"

"Only when people poke and prod it with their fingers." The newscaster replied dryly.

"Sorry," she flinched and pulled back her hand.

"You should have seen it Friday noon when he walked into the bullpen," Don grinned. "It looked like vampire girl had feasted on him half the night."

Friday?!? Mac's eyes widened with shock.

"You make it sound like I showed up with blood spurting from stigmata." Will rolled his eyes. "It really wasn't that bad. Nothing Deirdre's magic fingers couldn't fix. They've got this stuff in make-up they use to cover up tattoos on guests. Viewers didn't see a thing."

"I've got a confirmation on Roche." Ben jumped up from his chair, covering the mouthpiece.

"Right, then," Jackson called everyone to order. "Although Will's hazardous dating life provides much needed comic relief for this office, it is not of national interest. We have a news show in eight hours, so let's meet for rundown in fifteen minutes."

"Already on it."

* * *

After the staff meeting, Mackenzie trailed Will into his office. She stood there shyly, chewing on her lower lip. With her hair in a pony tail and her bangs falling over her eyes, she looked like a school girl in the principal's office. "Hi."

"Hi," Will smiled and felt his slacks constrict. Another fantasy to add to his shower routine.

"I'm sorry about the..." She trailed off and pointed at her neck.

"Don't worry, it's really not that big of a deal. Though if I were you, I'd steer clear of the make-up room, lest Deirdre matches your dental records to the bite marks."

"I left indentations on your skin?!?" She looked at him horrified. "Jesus, Will, I swear I didn't notice in the morning!"

"Shhh," Will calmed her down, before someone heard her, "it was a joke. You didn't. And nobody knows it was you, so let's keep it that way."

"Thank you." She really appreciated his chivalry. "You could've just thrown me in front of the bus out there."

Will smothered a smile. She was so cute when she mixed up her metaphors. "Why fan pockets of ember?"

"To take the heat off of you?"

"Do you have any idea how much heat I'd catch from George and the girls on the staff if they found out I slept with you? They'd think I took advantage of you and string me up by my balls." He waved his hands around dramatically. "Pure self-preservation on my part. Very primal instincts."

Mackenzie chuckled, "Well, thanks anyway. I'm glad the epitaph on my tombstone won't say, 'Here lies Mackenzie McHale - beloved daughter, sister, journalist and hickey producer'."

Will snorted and they looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

"I remember," he said quietly. He closed his eyes, reliving the moment, as he shook his head lightly. "You sunk your teeth into my neck just when I came."

"Oh!" Mac nibbled on her lower lip. "Well, I'm really, really sorry for embarrassing you, I am."

"Don't be," Will acted coyly, "I actually quite liked it. Not the teasing from the office but the, you know,..."

She looked up at him, giving him a shy smile. "I liked it, too. Well, not the biting because I don't remember that part, obviously, but the rest of it was pretty fantastic."

There was a knock on Will's door and Jackson stuck his head in. "Paul just got the Roche footage. You gotta see this."

* * *

"I say we have to run the full video to document the brutality of the incident," Ben argued.

"What for?" Mackenzie countered. "It's not enough for Will to say he was shot multiple times after they cut his tongue out? We have to show his mutilated body handcuffed to a chair? Why?"

"Because images are more powerful than words," Stacy concluded.

Mac looked to George, "Tell them we won't show the whole footage because we're in the business of informing people not entertaining them. This isn't a bloody Hollywood blockbuster, this is a man's dignity we're talking about!"

"Shouldn't the real story be whether he was killed in a kidnapping gone wrong or executed under the pretense of a kidnapping gone wrong?" Kristen interjected. "I mean he was a regime critic and independent journalist after all."

"Can you prove the ransom was fake?" George looked at his staff.

"Well," Wesley looked into his notes, "We know from AP that the initial demand on Monday was $250,000. Within 24 hours, family and friends of Roche came up with an initial ten thousand. The kidnappers insisted on the remaining $240,000."

"What about the four hundred something people who've been abducted in Haiti in the last six months that we haven't heard of because they weren't famous or prominent citizens?" Stacy pointed out.

"Where'd you get that number?" Jackson got curious.

"Our contact at the Haitian National Police. He says that pro-Aristide gangs exploit the political instability and practically control the slum of Cité Soleil. They abduct random people and hold them until ransom gets paid, after which they usually release them. And the number is actually closer to 450."

" _That's_ our story right there!" Mackenzie exclaimed.

"AP reports 700 hundred people killed in Port-au-Prince during unrests." Paul jumped on board with pitching the segment. He went back a few pages looking for the appropriate notes. "There've also been complaints by independent human rights organizations that the Minustah and HNP are forced to wage war on these gangs at the cost of innocent citizens' lives, including children. Here's the thing: We trained 'em."

"Minus-what?" George asked.

"MINUSTAH, that's the acronym for United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti."

"That doesn't work," Frank shook his head, "it should be U-N-S-T-M-I-H. You've got it backwards."

"It's in French," Mackenzie pointed out casually, "Mission des Nations Unies pour la stabilisation en Haïti."

"Damn, that sounded hot coming out of your mouth," Ben sent her a playful look, "I'd like to bring a motion forward, requesting Mac to speak French at staff meetings more often. Everyone in favor say aye."

A chorus of ayes followed and Mackenzie shook her head amused at her colleagues. "Getting tired of my English accent already?"

"What do you think?" George looked at Will and ignored the sidetrack the conversation had just taken.

Will tilted his head and thought for a minute. "Yeah, I can't decide. I think Mackenzie's French and English accent are both equally hot."

"The segment!" Jackson narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "We risk losing viewers if we don't show the entire footage. We may not like it but the audience has a morbid fascination with graphic depiction of death. They're going to switch to a station that airs the gory images. I leave the decision to you."

"When has reporting the news become a bloodsport?" Will asked no one in particular. "Jacques Roche's kidnappers took his life and humanity, let's not pile onto that by stripping him of his dignity on national TV. Let others show that, eight o'clock can enter the ring if they want to. What do people in the States really know about Haiti? Heck, what does anyone in this room know about our neighbor? Nothing, and who cares? It's not like we do a lot of trading or vacationing there. Let's make people care for one night and honor the memory of Jacques Roche." 

"Alright," George clapped his hands together, "A-block: Haiti."

Everyone started shouting keywords and buzzwords until Jackson had enough material written on the whiteboard to fill two blocks for this evening's show and the whittling of segments began. 

* * *

After the broadcast, Will asked Mackenzie out for a drink to cash their raincheck in. Talking at the office had proved impossible because there was always something or someone that needed either one's attention. After the second interruption, they resolved to meet at a bar after work.

"On a show well done." They toasted each other and clinked their glasses. 

Mackenzie took a sip of wine and put her glass back down. "Thanks for backing me up on Haiti."

Will shrugged his shoulders, "It was the right call."

"You didn't do it because... you know..."

"... we slept together? No," he shook his head decisively, "your argument was sound and solid."

"Good," Mac nodded satisfied, "because I really don't want whatever this is between us to come in the way of work."

"What a pity," Will quipped, "I was really looking forward to trading news segments for blowjobs under my desk." He tipped back his bottle and took a healthy swig.

"Office or studio?" She called him out and Will choked on his beer. He coughed and sputtered while she patted him on the back. When he finally recovered, she just smiled at him innocently. "I really liked what you said about the news and bloodsports."

"Well, it's true, isn't it? It may not be a popular opinion but I happen to agree with you. We're so concerned with giving viewers what they _think_ they want instead of arming them with the information that they _need_."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect to hear those words coming out of the mouth of a ratings whore," she teased him. "Aren't you gonna feel lonely at night without your imaginary friends?"

"I don't know," he leaned in closer until their mouths were only separated by an inch of air, "I think I may have found someone better to keep my bed warm at night." He kissed her softly at first, then pried her lips open with his tongue when she responded in kind. Mackenzie moaned quietly when their tongues danced around each other. His hand came up to her neck, holding her close as he deepened the kiss. She brought her hand to the back of his head and buried her fingers in his hair while they made out a little. After a few minutes, they had to break apart for air and bumped their foreheads together.

"Should we be doing this?" Mac whispered breathlessly.

"Probably not," Will confessed, "but I'd be lying if I said I haven't been attracted to you since the day you stepped into my newsroom."

"Really?" She giggled flattered. "That was over a year ago, how come you didn't make your move until tonight?"

"Because you were in love with Brian," he shrugged his shoulders, "and wouldn't have given me the time of day anyway."

"Have you been circling above me like a bird of prey, waiting to swoop in when we broke up?" She gaped at him and he just grinned sheepishly. "I don't know if I should feel flattered or creeped out by you now, William."

"He's the creep, Mac," Will scoffed, "and you know that. I can't believe you didn't break up with him sooner. The guy's an arrogant bastard who compensates for his inferiority complex by putting other people down. He was never going to make you happy because he doesn't care about your thoughts or feelings. He doesn't want a girlfriend, he wants a groupie. But it's not really your fault. You've probably never been with a man who knows how to treat a woman properly. Someone who gives as good as he gets in and out of bed. Instead you're dating selfish little pricks like Brian Brenner who are never going to give you what you need because they're not the least little bit interested in what you want. It's all about them, them, them."

"Are you saying I have bad taste in men?" She cocked her head and quirked an eyebrow.

"You're here with me," he quipped. When she neither laughed nor looked amused, he quickly changed tactics. "I'm saying because you're still young and inexperienced you don't know what a relationship with a real man should be like so you put up with morons like Brian who are way below you. But thank goodness you met me because I promise you, Mackenzie,..."

"Fuck you, Will," Mac threw her drink in his face and stormed out of the bar.


	4. Ain't No Cure For Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At this point in the story, I feel the need to include a disclaimer that (a) all events and characters depicted in this story are fictional and (b) any and all references to real people and events are done with the utmost respect and humility on my part, and no harm is ever intended. The Newsroom characters belong to the fabulous Aaron Sorkin and HBO and I'm just a poor wordsmith with a pen.

 

Mackenzie's phone rang shortly after Don left. It was Molly. For a moment, she considered declining the call but then answered it anyway. "What do you want?"

"Just checking in to see how you're doing and if you need anything."

"How about my husband back for starters."

"Your husband?"

"Will. Tall, blond guy. Currently serving at the pleasure of the FBI in Manhattan Correctional for character and integrity? I believe you've met him?" Mac replied caustically.

"Yeah, I know that's why I'm calling. Lasenthal told me he had him arrested this afternoon. He left out the part with your wedding, though?"

"I don't think he realized..." Mackenzie sighed. "Will and I got married just before he surrendered himself. I lost him already once, I wasn't gonna let him slip through my fingers for a second time."

"Oh," Molly felt even more conflicted, "congratulations, I'm sure it was a nice affair even though I know you had your heart set on a June wedding."

"Yeah, well, shit happens. On the bright side, it saved me the trouble of disinviting you."

"I know you hate me now but do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"

"I don't hate _you_ ," Mackenzie sighed. "I'm just mad at the world because for once it seemed like everything came together. After _all_ the _ridiculous_ _heartbreak_ Will and I put each other through, and especially after Genoa, it seemed as if all the pieces were finally falling into place. We were happy, you know? Really, truly, blissfully happy."

"I'm so sorry," Molly paused, "you know I would've helped you guys, if I could have - right? I mean you know my hands were tied."

"You know what's ironic?" Mac gave a mirthless chuckle, "Will does. He totally gets it. He's one hundred per cent on your side and yet he's the one in jail while I'm out here..." She trailed off and choked back a sob.

"Mac..." Molly sighed on the other end of the line, feeling helpless.

"It's not fair," Mackenzie sniffled. "I miss him. He's not been gone for ten hours and I can't bear the thought of going home alone without him."

"You wanna sleep at my place? Jason won't mind if we put you up in the guest room for a few days," Molly offered instantly.

"Thanks, but I haven't quite reached the stage yet where I can guarantee I won't hit you if I saw you." Mac paused. "There's no chance they'd put me in a cell with Will if you booked me for assaulting an FBI agent, is there?"

"Nope, afraid not."

"Yeah, I thought so." Mackenzie fell silent. She'd have to ask Rebecca or Will about conjugal visits if his stay stretched into more than a week.

"You know," Molly laughed, "if someone had told me eight years ago you'd be begging me to lock you up in a tiny cell with Will McAvoy, I would've had them committed. You weren't even on speaking terms back when I met him."

"Well, what can I say, as quickly as Will's big mouth can get him into trouble, his talented tongue can get him out again."

"Ew!" Molly laughed out loud. "TMI, TMI!"

"Oh, please!" Mac snorted, "We're way past that since St Barths. And if you hadn't literally stumbled into that college bar in Georgetown because of your two left feet - how'd you even get into the FBI with your clumsy feet?!?"

"Hey, there were tequila shots involved that evening." The FBI agent defended herself.

"Too many if I recall," Mac smirked.  

* * *

"Is that Leonard Cohen?" Molly pointed to the stage where two older men were sitting together, jamming on their guitars.

"Yeah right," Mac looked around the rundown establishment, before she sat down at a corner table, "cause he's got nothing better to do on a Saturday night than playing in a dump..." She trailed off when the unmistakable voice of Cohen filled the air and turned around surprised. "Well, I'll be damned!" There, up on the small stage, was Leonard fucking Cohen playing guitars... with William Duncan McAvoy? Mackenzie did a double take. 

"Hey, isn't that your boss?" Molly recognized him now too, sitting down beside her friend and immediately plucking the menu from the holder.

"I didn't know he could play," Mac slumped down in her chair.

"And he's good, too." Molly observed just as Will made a mistake. The girls cast each other an amused look.

* * *

They were halfway through the first set of songs when Will looked up into the audience and saw her. He was so startled he missed a chord change and muddled his way through to the bridge. Cohen glanced at him to make sure his partner was okay but relaxed quickly when Will found his rhythm again within a few beats. They finished the remaining three songs without any further problems and went into break for fifteen minutes. Leonard patted him on the back as he left to get some fresh air.

Will put his guitar aside and lit up a cigarette. When one of the waiters came up to refill their water, he intercepted him. The news anchor pointed at the table where Mackenzie was sitting with her friend and told him they belonged to him and instructed him to put their bill on his tab. He watched Mackenzie chat animatedly with her friend while he smoked his cigarette, wondering if she was aware he was on stage. She looked happy and carefree, laughing a lot more than he'd seen her do in the past six months.

"Ah," Cohen grinned when he returned, "that explains your butterfingers before the break. Who's the pretty lady?"

"Nobody," Will shrugged his shoulders, "just some girl from work."

"Uh-huh," the artist didn't believe him, "that's why she came _all_ the way here, slumming it to hear you play."

"I have no fucking clue how she ended up in this place but I know it wasn't because of me. Maybe her friend's a student at Georgetown?"

"Mhm," Cohen mused and fiddled around with the pegs on his instrument.

The newsman plucked each string a few times, reassuring himself that his guitar didn't need retuning. He cut off the cacophony of sounds by putting his palm on the strings abruptly and sighed, "It's complicated."

"It always is, son." Leonard smiled knowingly and adjusted a peg.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she just had to walk into mine." Will sighed and Cohen chuckled.

"That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea!" Will began to explain, "She was with this guy who, by the way, is the textbook definition of douchebag, until he dumped her out of the blue a few months ago."

"Mhm," Cohen listened patiently.

"So a few weeks back we ended up out on a date, but I kinda put my foot into my mouth as usual and accidentally insulted her." He plucked his guitar and concluded thoughtfully, "I really should just stop talking to women altogether and just let them take me home whenever it suits them."

"Hm."

"So now, of course, she's not talking to me which is becoming a bit of a problem because the rest of the newsroom is starting to notice this arctic front that has settled over the bullpen. That's exactly the reason why I shouldn't get involved with her in the first place and just forget her and move on but the thing is I can't get her out of my head. It's like I'm stuck in the middle of a Willie Nelson song. All I can think about is her while she's still hung up on that loser and nothing good can ever come of it because she's still..."

"... on the rebound," Cohen chorused with him, nodding amused.

"Exactly," Will took a deep breath and sighed. 

"You know what, son?" Leonard played a few chords on his guitar that Will recognized instantly.

"There ain't no cure for love?"

"There sure ain't no cure for love," Cohen shook his head and changed the set of songs spontaneously, starting to sing with the newsman:

I loved you for a long, long time  
I know this love is real.  
It don't matter how it all went wrong  
That don't change the way I feel.  
And I can't believe that time's  
Gonna heal this wound I'm speaking of.  
There ain't no cure,  
There ain't no cure,  
There ain't no cure for love.

"Oh my God," Molly nudged Mackenzie, "did you sleep with Will?"

"What?!?" Mac squeaked and looked at her friend baffled. "Why...? What makes you even think that?"

"Err... the lovesick looks he's sending your way?" She pointed at the stage behind Mac.

"I beg your pardon?" She turned around and realized horrified that Will appeared to address the second strophe directly to her:

I'm aching for you, baby,  
I can't pretend I'm not.  
I need to see you naked, baby,  
In your body and your thought.  
I've got you like a habit  
And I'll never get enough.  
There ain't no cure,  
There ain't no cure,  
There ain't no cure for love.

"Oh God, no!" Mac blushed and put her arms quickly on the table so she could bury her face in them.

"Oh come on," Molly shook her shoulder, "it's kinda sweet."

"I'm slowly dying a thousand deaths here." She mumbled into her clothes.

"Stop it or people will start staring," Molly patted her back.

Mackenzie lifted her head a little and noticed relieved that the rest of the audience was oblivious to Will's subtle serenade. Right now Cohen had taken over for the bridge anyway and Will only provided the rhythmic counterpoint.

"Alright, so what's the story with you and Will?"

"There's not really much to tell. We had sex. And then we had words. I used him to get a rise out of Brian, he criticized my taste in men. I told him to fuck off and threw my drink in his face." Mac explained.

"You never took criticism well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Molly replied quickly.

"What, are you on his side? Do you think I have bad taste in men, too?"

"Look, I don't know Will, so I can't say if he's a jerk or a decent guy but you _cannot_ tell me what Brian did to you was ok? That guy's a controlling, manipulative son of a bitch who constantly belittled you. God only knows where you would've ended up if you had stayed with him. " 

"It wasn't that bad, he wasn't violent or anything." Mackenzie automatically played things down.

"Tell me you're not still pining for Brian!" The FBI agent shook her head with resignation. She'd seen it happening too many times, from women just as intelligent and educated as Mackenzie. "You can do so much better than him, Mac! Tell me you're not waiting for him to call you so you can get back together."

"Brian's not so bad when you get to know him," Mac defended him, "people just don't understand him the way I do. I know how to take his moods and it's not like he ever hit me or anything."

"I should be so lucky!" Molly scoffed, "I would've slapped my cuffs around his wrists, thrown his sorry ass in jail, and lost my damn keys, too!"

Someone in the audience whistled, when Cohen played a solo, and drew their attention back to the performance on stage. It was clear that Will and Cohen had a great time with this song and the spark crossed into the audience. There were a few whoops and whistles as people began tapping their feet and clapping along to the last stanza. The guys topped the song off with a little flourish on the guitars while the crowd went wild with applause.

"If that doesn't get you laid tonight, I can't help you, son." Cohen grinned. 

* * *

During one of the next breaks, Will excused himself to use the men's room. Leonard waited until the newsman left the stage, before he made a beeline for the girls' table.

"Hi, it's Mackenzie, right?" Cohen introduced himself, "I'm Leonard."

Mac giggled nervously, "I know, Mr. Cohen."

"Oh, please, call me Leonard," the artist shook hands with the producer, "I'm about to ask you for a favor."

"Oh!" The girls exchanged curious glances. "O-kay."

"I don't know if you've noticed but the kid I'm playing with tonight is a friend of yours."

"My boss actually," Mac corrected him quickly.

"Yeah, right," his tone suggested he knew better. "I've been playing with Will for a couple of years now and I've never heard him hit a wrong note until you walked into this club."

"Are you saying you want me to leave because I distract him?" Mackenzie furrowed her brows and looked at him bemused.

"Oh goodness, no!" Cohen shook his head. "Listen, you don't know me but I feel like I've known you all your life. Your name is Mackenzie but your friends call you Mac. You're the youngest in your family, you've got a brother and three sisters, all of whom live in England but you were born in New York, which makes you the proudest damn Yankee anyone's ever seen. And I'm not talking about the baseball team because I know you know as much about sports as you know about economics, which is literally nothing because you think the Phillips curve is a brand-new curved flatscreen model made by Philips. Your disinterest in the economy is probably fueled by your disdain for corporate greed. You're a big rule follower but for the most ethical person in the world you have a surprising disregard for consequences. Your radiant smile turns male willpower into goo and with your big doe eyes you can wrap the whole of mankind around your little finger. Ask me how I know all this?"

Mac laughed nervously but didn't get a chance to formulate her question because Leonard Cohen was on a rant. Will had said all those things about her?

"Because he won't shut up about you ever since you set foot into this club! The kid's crazy about you! I can't take another hour of this. I sure as hell can't play another gig with him like that. I'm this close to shoving his guitar down his throat just to make him shut up. And she's a real beauty, too, so it would be a colossal waste. I love Will like a son but tonight he's a real pain in my ass."

"Welcome to the club," Mackenzie deadpanned. Will had shared all this information about her with a complete stranger? What else had he told Leonard? Truth be told, she felt a little bit naked right now, metaphorically speaking.

"Look, I know he's not perfect," Cohen continued, "but he's a good kid. Will's really a decent guy and he clearly cares about you, a lot, which is more than what can be said about your weasel of an ex-boyfriend. Sure, he bottles things up inside until he gets verbal diarrhea and he's a bit of a ladies' man but he's honest as they come. I don't go to bat for anyone, so whatever mistake he's made with you, for the love of God, I'm begging you, please give the kid another chance because if I have to listen to him going on about you for another five minutes, I swear to God, I'm walking off that stage."

"He's coming back," Molly warned them when she caught Will's eye returning from the restroom. Spotting Leonard with the girls, the newsman visibly panicked and hurried over to them.

"What are you doing here, Leonard?" Will gave them a nervous smile.

"Had to meet the woman who turns your dancing digits into butterfingers," Cohen grinned.

The tension at the table was palpable. Will glanced at Mackenzie who steadfastly ignored him. Molly's bladder chose this particular moment to demand she visit the restroom and Mackenzie sent her friend a dirty look for deserting her. Leonard muttered something about his guitar and scurried back to the stage. They couldn't be more obvious if they tried. When Will stayed and Mac couldn't ignore him any longer, she asked him tersely if he needed to check her ID. 

Oh great. She was already inebriated and ready for round two. If he wasn't careful, she'd make a scene in front of the other patrons, too. What was so horrible about what he'd said? He was going to apologize to her anyway but it would be easier if he knew what exactly had set her off. "I want to apologize. I was trying to impress you and really put my foot into my mouth. I shouldn't have said what I said. I'm not really good at talking with women because usually they pick me up."

"The perks of being a news anchor?" She chirped and he nodded sheepishly. There was a moment of silence as Will tried to formulate his next step.

"I'm not an idiot," Mac growled, "I know that Brian has his faults but you're not exactly God's gift to women, either."

"Never said I was," Will claimed and Mackenzie raised her eyebrows. 

"You implied you were going to teach me the ropes about adult relationships, the ins and outs of sexual pleasure, the..."

He held up his hand, "I get it. That was the stupid and cocky part for which I just tried to apologize."

"My sex life was fine until I met you," she informed him haughtily. "That's part of the problem. If sex with Brian hadn't been so bloody good, I wouldn't have crawled back to him time and again."

"Better than..." He started but shut up quickly when he received _the look_ from her. He pulled out a chair and set down with a heavy sigh. "You're right, I'm really not in a position to judge your dating life. I mean, look at me. A forty-something commitment phobic who doesn't know why he keeps looking for the right woman when the very thought of not living up to her expectations is enough to paralyze me."

"Pity, it doesn't make you tongue-tied, too," she quipped. "Could save yourself a lot of troubles there."

"I really like you, Mackenzie. I like the passion you bring to our line of work. Everyone on my staff looks up to you. If I'm the face of McNews, you're the heart. I like that you don't back down but stand up to me in the newsroom, you're not intimidated by my presence in the bullpen like the others."

"My behavior this week was unprofessional, I know." Mac looked contrite and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge," Will shook his head slightly. "You get a free pass on that one if I get one for what I said to you the other night?"

She nodded quickly.

"I shouldn't have slept with you," Will sighed and Mac opened her mouth in protest but he shushed her quickly, "I don't regret that we did but the truth is I should've known better. I took advantage of you."

"You didn't," Mac fessed up to him, "if anyone, it was me using you. I knew sleeping with you would drive Brian up the walls when he'd find out..."

"Oh..." Will looked at her surprised.

"I'm sorry, that was a horrible thing to do to you."

"How'd that work out for you? Are you guys back together now?"

Mac was quiet for a minute and then confessed, "He's not going to find out from me." Now Will looked at her really confused. "Yeah, I know. I'm still working on figuring that one out for myself." 

"Okay," he drawled. "Still, I'm your boss. I shouldn't ever put you in a position where you have to decide between your love life and career. And worst of all, you really weren't in a clear state of mind. I know what you're going to say, you wanted it and consented to it, but, Mac, you were confused and vulnerable after a long and stressful day and I should've left once you were safely inside your apartment."

"I didn't want to be alone that night," Mac admitted quietly. 

Will smiled sympathetically, "I know."

"You were there for me," she explained, "you didn't have to be. You could've just kicked me out of your office but you stayed."

"Isn't that what friends do?"

"I don't know," Mac looked up, "are we even friends?"

"Of course," he quickly reassured her.

"We don't hang out together," she pointed out and propped her head on her elbow. Sure part of the reason was that Brian didn't like socializing with people from her work, so she never went out with the rest of the staff but Will didn't either.

"Mackenzie, I'm too old to hit the clubs with my staff after work but that doesn't mean I don't care about all of you." It had been Jackson's idea to fill their newsroom with twenty-somethings 'who lived in step with the times with their ears on the ground and their fingers on the pulse of technology and were up to speed about modern trends.' So far his concept was working because they were second place in the coveted 19-34 target group on cable. Fast news for millennials by trend-setters.

"You call us minions and can't remember half our names," she smirked and sipped her Jameson.

"First of all, I use minions as a term of endearment," Will shot back, "second, I have mild undiagnosed prosopagnosia."

"You just made that up!" Mackenzie gaped at him.

"No, seriously," he shook his head, "it's a real thing, google it." 

Mac pulled out her BlackBerry and looked up the word. She clicked on a few links, scanning the information, and accused him, "You have no problem recognizing _me_."

"See?" He grinned triumphantly and pointed his hands at her, "That means we're friends!"

"You're so full of shit," Mac rolled her eyes. "Self-diagnoses from WebMD don't count!"

"Well," Will drawled, "we could do something together next weekend like real friends. Like going to the movies."

"Why? So you can make fun of my taste in films, too?" Mac grumbled. Her eyes darted behind him where Molly made her way back to them from the restroom. 

"Hi, I'm Molly Levy." Mackenzie's friend introduced herself.

"Will McAvoy," he shook hands with her.

"I know, I watch your show."

"Thank you," he beamed, "and right in our target demo, too." He winked at Mac who rolled her eyes. "So you go to Georgetown?"

"What?" She frowned and then realized he must be wondering what she and Mac were doing in a college bar. "No, we were bar hopping. I tripped outside and we literally stumbled in." 

"Just my luck," Mackenzie commented.

"Mac here wanted to turn around and leave when she spotted you but I said, no way am I leaving while Cohen plays."

Will glanced amused at Mackenzie who observed their exchange with a watchful eye. "Did she now?"

"I believe her exact words were: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, we just had to stumble into yours." Molly was clearly enjoying making Mackenzie squirm a little. 

Maybe she'd better steer the conversation away from her, the producer realized. "Will used to be a man of the law, you know. Molly's with the FBI."

"Oh," Molly cocked her head, "is that so?"

"I worked as a prosecutor in Brooklyn in the eighties." He explained.

"Oh, the dark side of the force," Molly teased him. "We put them away and you let them walk on a technicality."

After that opening salvo, he couldn't resist showing off a little, "At the DA's office we commonly refer to these technicalities as the law and constitutional rights and my 94% conviction rate says otherwise, thank you very much."

"94?!" Molly gaped. "Wait a moment, did you say Brooklyn? You're not _the_ William McAvoy who threw the book at Donny the Mosquito."

"Danny de Vito?" Mac slurred and frowned. What could the famous actor possible have done for Will to bring the full force of the law against him?

"Donny Bommarito," The FBI agent looked at her friend, "he was a hit man for the Agostino family, who ran Greenpoint in the eighties. They called him Mosquito because he was short and liked to kill his victims with a precision needle prick."

"So the wounds looked like a mosquito bite," Mac nodded, "I get it." She turned to Will, "And what was your role in all of this?"

"I had a witness who identified Bommarito at the crime scene," Will shrugged his shoulders, "I got lucky."

"That's an understatement. Most people in your position would've ended up dead. Oh wait, isn't that what happened to your predecessor?"

"You risked your life going after mobster?" Mackenzie slapped his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you? How stupid are you?"

"Ow," Will pulled away and glared at her. "If a witness is willing to sacrifice everything to join WITSEC so they can testify against a well-known mafia don, then the least I can do is step up to the game and show up in the court room."

"McAvoy went after Donny the Mosquito and before you knew it the chips started falling and, luckily, the FBI was able to bring a RICO charge against the whole Agostino family or Mr. News Anchor here would likely be pushing up daisies by now. It's a textbook case we study at Quantico."

"It was a calculated risk," Will objected to Molly's portrayal of events and turned to Mackenzie, "She's turning this into a bigger deal than it was."

"I'll remember that when I wake up with a decapitated horse head in my bed because you pissed off some mobster twenty years ago." Mac grumbled.

"And on that note, I think I'll head back to the stage." Will shoved his hands into his pants, "I took the liberty of picking up your tab, you're my guests, of course." He didn't wait for their reaction, worried Mackenzie would tear into him for that, too.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The FBI agent punched her friend's arm once Will was out of earshot. "He's nice! And funny. And kinda cute."

"And all yours if you want him," Mac propped up her head.

"Okay, I'm dying to know," Molly leaned in closer, "what's it like fucking an older guy?"

"Best sex of your life," Mac slurred, "provided you don't care he thinks you're shite in bed."

"What?" Molly appreciated the view of Will's retreating backside in those tight jeans.

"Why do you think I threw my drink in his face?"

Molly's head snapped back, "Are you serious?"

"Apparently I'm a lousy lay," Mackenzie shrugged her shoulders and downed the rest of her whiskey, "but maybe you've got more experience in the sack. Though, come to think of it, that might work against you 'cause I think he's really into that older guy teaching the younger ingenue shit."

"Bastard," Molly cussed. "You really know how to pick 'em, Mac."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Leonard Cohen - Ain't No Cure For Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqPqMjEZlQo&ab_channel=PiaH)


	5. This Is the Last Worthless Evening

Mackenzie spotted a young man walking around the bullpen, looking lost.

"Hang on, Molly," she got up from her chair and stuck her head out the door. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mrs. McAvoy?"

"Oh shoot, we forgot to cancel the car service," Mac groaned.

"What?" Her friend asked confused.

"Nothing, look we'll stay in touch but I've got to go."

They said quick good-byes and then Mackenzie's undivided attention was on the shy kid in her newsroom. She gave him a friendly smile. "You must be a new driver. Sorry to have kept you waiting so long outside that you had to come up here."

"It's fine, ma'am," the young man reassured her and held out his hand, "I'm Simon."

"I'm also very sorry you wasted a trip because we forgot to let you know that we won't be needing your services for a while. Mr. McAvoy's not here. You'll be compensated for tonight, of course." 

"Oh," the driver nodded in understanding, "that's alright. I'm supposed to pick up  _Mrs_. McAvoy." 

Oh. Mac's eyes narrowed. That was such a Will thing to do. She had no idea when he'd found time in the chaos of today to arrange a ride home for her. "Did _Mister_ McAvoy send you?" He knew her too well, anticipating that she was going to go into work after his arrest to keep herself occupied.

"No, a Mr. Skinner." 

"Charlie?" Mac asked surprised. Trust the president of ACN to call a ride for Mrs. McAvoy when the ink on her marriage certificate was barely even dry.

"Look, I'm not sure what's with the twenty questions here... but maybe you can just point me in the direction of her office," he spun around, "I can't seem to find it." 

" _I'm_ Mrs. McAvoy."

"Nah," The young kid flashed her his pearly whites and pointed his index finger at her, "you're Ms. McHale. Says so right on your door." 

"Mhm," Mackenzie nodded, "and Mr. McAvoy's ring on this finger says otherwise." She held up her wedding band.

"Mr. Skinner warned me that you were going to be difficult." The boy sighed, getting frustrated.

"I beg your pardon?!?"

"Mhm," the kid nodded and pulled a note out of his pocket. "He said you might refuse to leave the office, so I should give this to you and tell you that he'll have me fired if you won't let me bring you home tonight."

Mac cocked her head and unfolded the note. It read, "Get in the fucking car already, Mac!"

"His words not mine," the young man clarified.

"You won't leave without me, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. Gotta pay tuition."

Mackenzie sighed. Damn Charlie knew her too well. He'd found the only reliable way to make sure she left the building and didn't commandeer the night shift at the assignment desk from some poor intern. While she may refuse rides from friends and colleagues and ignore a fleet of cab drivers waiting at the curb for her, she was not going to stand between a young college kid and his education.

"Fine, let me get my things."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll wait right here."

Mrs McAvoy. She couldn't fight the grin that spread on her face if she wanted to. She was Will's wife now! Mac pushed the door to her office open but froze when her look fell on the empty news anchor desk. Tonight's trips down memory lane had left her feeling nostalgic and seeing their professional domains so close together, the control room only separated by the small hallway from his open studio, suddenly got to her. Her life had come full circle. Once Will got out of jail, they'd be spending the rest of their lives together, working here side by side every day and then going home _together_. Their professional and private lives were forever intertwined now and she wouldn't have it any other way. The life she'd always wanted, even when she was too young and stupid to realize Will was everything and anything she'd ever need to be happy, was hers for the taking.

* * *

“Will?” The news anchor flinched behind his desk lightly and the crew in the control room chuckled amused. "It's Mackenzie."

No shit, the twitch in his cock was a dead give away but thank you very much for the clarification. What was she doing in his ear with that sexy voice of hers? It sent a shiver right down his spine, too. That usually didn't happen with Jackson. But George usually didn't whisper dirty shit into his ear in bed, either.

"Tap your pen if you can hear me. I'm taking over for George for the remainder of the broadcast."

Will flicked his eyes to the camera and did as told while he finished reading the announcement for the upcoming segment. As soon as the footage rolled, he inquired about Jackson's whereabouts.

"Janene went into labour," Mac explained. "Looks like Jackson junior can't wait to make an entrance into this world. George had to rush over to the hospital."

"That would explain the sonic boom five minutes ago," Will joked, "I bet he turned into the Flash when he got the call. I sure hope he gets there in time."

"Who?"

"The Flash," he frowned, "beloved comic book character? Runs at superhuman speed? Can someone from graphics please pull up an image from the internet?" 

"Anyway," Mackenzie brought them back on track firmly, there are no more interviews or panels tonight, so just stick close to your copy from lock-in and I'll carry you the best I can, ok?" She was sweet to reassure him, like any good EP would, except this was the first time she was flying solo and she was probably more scared than him.

"Don't worry, Mac," he looked directly into the camera, "I've got you." 

"We'll be fine, we can do this." Mackenzie sounded optimistic in his ear although he had no way of knowing if her face betrayed her nervousness. He begged to differ a little, though. With every second she spent in his ear so far, his erection grew stronger. He was glad his anchor desk was made of heavy oak and not transparent glass or the world would get to see more than it bargained for. This was going to be an agonizingly long hour for him and he prayed it wouldn't end with him splooging his pants on live TV. 

"Will, you're back in ten," she gave him the obligatory warning. He cleared his throat and faced the correct camera.

* * *

"Mac?" Nick, the show's technical director, pointed at the monitor which showed Will still sitting behind his anchor desk.

"It's okay, you can go. I'll handle him."

"You did well, kiddo." Nick cleared his work station and patted Mackenzie on the shoulder. "Don't let him make you believe otherwise."

"Thanks," she smiled and tucked a strand of hair shyly behind her ear. She waited until everyone had filed out of the control room to ready herself for the impending confrontation with Will. She thought she'd handled things smoothly on her end but he obviously had a different opinion and was waiting behind his desk for her to come into the studio so he could berate her for the mistakes he'd found in the broadcast. Well, she wasn't going to cave to his power play and stayed in the control room instead.

“Will?” She called his name hesitantly.

“Yes?” He didn't seem mad.

“Is there a reason why you haven’t left your chair?” She asked casually.

“I just need a minute.” He explained calmly as he perused his script.

“Something wrong with your copy?" She wanted to know.

"For the love of God, Mac, will you please just shut the fuck up?!?" He groaned and he knew that she shrank back hurt without having to see her. He regretted the words the minute they came out. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, "I didn't mean it like that." 

"I thought the broadcast went quite well?" She asked meekly.

"Oh, you were spectacular." He smiled into the camera and Mackenzie was now officially confounded.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm not used to having you in my ear in the studio," he tried to explain.

"You don't like my voice?" She looked stricken.

"No! No, no," he shook his head, "quite the contrary." 

"I don't understand," she sighed.

"I love your voice. A little too much apparently."

"I still don't understand."

"Can you switch me?"

"We're alone, everyone's already left for the bar to celebrate Jackson junior." She looked around for confirmation that she was still alone in the control room and hadn't missed any stragglers.

"The baby's born already?" Will perked up. "Boy or girl?"

"The baby's not here yet but that didn't keep everyone from hitting the bar as soon as George left." Mac chuckled.

He grinned, "We wouldn't want a minor detail like that get in the way of booze."

When he still showed no sign of getting up, Mac sighed. "Alright, Will, what's up?"

"Funny, you should use this expression," he glanced down nervously, "since a little wardrobe problem has _arisen_."

"Well, what kind of problem? Maybe I can help you?"

He closed his eyes and bit back a smile. Oh, how he'd love for her to help out with this particular problem. "While I would love for you to take matters into your own hands," he quipped, "I think I'll just wait here for my problem to go down."

"What?" Mac huffed into his ear, "You're not making any sense at all."

"This news desk isn't the only stiff wood in the studio at the moment."

"Did you fall on your head?"

"Jesus, Mac, do I really have to spell it out for you in front of the cameras?" Will groaned, "I've got a boner. A bona-fide erection. A raging hard-on. I'm pitching a tent."

"Excuse me?" That was a twist she certainly hadn't seen coming. She strained her neck to study his image on the monitor, which was stupid because, unless she'd developed x-ray vision in the past five minutes, there was no way she'd be able to see through solid wood.

"It's your husky voice in my head," he explained as he whirled his fingers beside his face. "Apparently there's now a direct neural connection from my ear to my dick, which has been primed by you to stand at attention anytime you whisper something naughty into my ear."

Mackenzie was sorely tempted to switch cameras to get a bird's eye view and see for herself. 

"God, Mac, you have no idea what a torture today's show was for me. I've tried everything but it just won't go down as long as you keep talking to me."

"I can only imagine if you thought the stock market update I gave you contained naughty information," she chuckled. “You could’ve just pulled out your ear piece,” she pointed out, "why didn’t you?"  

There was a long pregnant pause. She recognized an opportunity when she saw one. Still feeling a little bit miffed about his slight to her sexual prowess, she decided to make him squirm behind his anchor desk with her kinky side until he blew his load.

“I tell you why. You’re secretly enjoying this. You love the thrill of getting caught, the promise of illicit activity."

"I certainly don't want to be arrested for public indecency," Will protested half-heartedly.

"Of course not, but you don't really want this to end, either. I bet you're thinking about stroking your cock while talking to me."

"Mackenzie, please," he begged her to stop.

"Mackenzie, what?" She teased him, "I'm not as innocent as you think, I can be kinky if I want to. How'd you like taking me on your news anchor desk in front of all the cameras?"

"Jesus, Mac," Will groaned, "you have to stop saying stuff like that. I never had a doubt about your kinky side." 

"Didn't sound like it when you called me innocent and immature and what was the third one, oh yes, inexperienced."

“What? I never said...” Will looked up confused, “I don’t think… You think I think?” No wonder she’d thrown her drink in his face! “That’s,” Will huffed, “that’s not at all what I meant. Were you even listening?"

There was another stretch of silence until the camera above his head suddenly whirred to life. He squinted to the ceiling and stared directly into the lens, "You just switched cameras, didn't you?"

"Lean back so I can see."

"Just don't lean on any buttons and accidentally broadcast my erection to 180,000 viewers, please." He reclined a little bit to offer her a glimpse.

"Don't think our female viewers would mind if I did," Mackenzie hummed pleased when she saw the visible bulge in his pants. "Damn, William, you've got a license for that?"

He reached down and readjusted his package. She groaned involuntarily and felt the moisture pool between her legs. "Don't stop."

"What?"

"That's what you really want, isn't it?" Her breathing got heavier. "Take it out and play with yourself while I watch."

"Mackenzie!" His head snapped up shocked.

"You were the one who brought up blowjobs at the anchor desk," she chirped into his ear. 

Will groaned and tugged at his dick through his pants.

"But such treats have to be earned so I'll just keep talking into your ear while you jack off until you come all over your desk." Mac continued to fire him up. She slipped her hand into her panties and parted her wet folds with her forefinger.

"Fuck, Mac!" Will roared and threw caution into the wind. He undid his belt and popped the button of his pants. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Pull it out, Will. Show me your beautiful cock," she moaned as she watched him lower the zipper on his slacks. "We've got about an hour before the next crew sets up shop."

"Are you touching yourself?" He wanted to know. He reached into his fly and fished out his cock.

"I'm soaking, Will," she hummed. "You've ruined another pair of panties."

"I'll buy you new ones," he sighed relieved when he freed his erection from its confinement. His tip was leaking pre-come, which he spread around his shaft to use for lubrication. "I wish I could see you. I bet you're so wet already, I could just plunge my dick inside you."

"Oh yes," Mackenzie pushed a finger into her pussy. She licked her lips as another bead of fluid oozed out of his pee hole. His thumb brushed over his crown and smeared it around his long, thick shaft, glistening in the strong studio lights. No wonder he had filled and stretched her pussy so wonderfully, he was a damn fine specimen. "You have no idea how badly I want to play with your cock." She purred into his ear. "That's twice now I only get to look without touching." Will grunted and his cock released a clear, long string of pre-come. "I fucking love your cock, Will. It's so... majestic."

He chuckled at her words, "The doors to the studio are always open if you want to acquaint yourself with my dick up, close and personal." He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and stroked himself slowly. "And I sure would love to eat you out someday. Have you ever done that? Let a man lick your pussy until your thighs start to tremble and your juices flow freely?" Mac stifled a cry. Brian was more of a receiver than a giver when it came to oral sex and so they had abandoned those experiments when his scruff irritated her skin so much, she broke out into a rash after their first attempt. She wondered what it would feel like if she let Will go down on her. She needn't wonder though, because he promptly proceeded to describe in excruciating detail.

"First, I'd inhale your wonderful scent." Right, she remembered the dreamy look he'd sent her when he'd sniffed her panties the last time. "You're lying spreadeagle on my bed, my head's between your thighs. I run my lips over your folds and part them slowly with my tongue. I hold the tip of my tongue over your throbbing clit but I won't touch it quite yet. You can feel my hot breath and you want nothing more than my lips to close around your clit and suck on it gently until you come. You're squirming in my arms, trying to buck your hips, so your clit can make contact with my tongue but my strong arms hold you down." Mackenzie moaned out loud and closed her eyes, cupping one of her breasts with her free hand through her blouse. Her own tongue tingled just from listening to him. She added a second finger to her pussy and sighed satisfied.

Will pumped his cock hard as he painted a vivid picture for her. "I begin with slow, soft licks up and down your pussy. I can feel your clit pulsate every time my tongue runs along its side. You cry out softly just like you did now and bury your fingers deep in my hair. I take my time pleasuring you, drawing circles around your clit, driving you crazy until you can't take it anymore. You're moaning incoherently, begging me to let you come. I dip my tongue into your hole and there's just so much juice to lap up. You press your thighs together, squeezing my head and pulling my hair. I replace my tongue with my finger in your pussy and flick it once, twice, three times across your clit."

"Oh God, yes!" Mac shouted and felt her walls contract around her fingers. Her other hand unbuttoned her blouse and freed her breasts, so she could play with her nipples. A tingle seized her core and her clit began to pulsate wildly. "Oh my God," she moaned as her orgasm washed over her, "oh fuck, oh Will." Her pussy made loud squelching noises as she fucked herself.

"Fuck, I can hear you come, Mac," Will groaned and threw his head back. Listening to her ragged breathing was music to his ears, while he felt his semen rise. His throat made a little sound that was neither grunt nor moan but alerted Mackenzie to his impending climax. She opened her eyes again and saw Will's hand moving like a blur. If she couldn't have him inside her when he erupted, she wanted the best seats in the house to watch his ejaculation. 

"Let me see your come fly through the air."

"God, you're dirty," he grunted and looked around frantically for a better solution. Tempting as her fantasy sounded, he knew it was not a real option. He couldn’t explode over his expensive Hugo Boss ensemble - not unless he wanted his assistant to raise his eyebrows at him when he had to deliver a semen-stained suit to the dry cleaner after the show. Will wished Mackenzie was in the studio with him so he could just come inside her, but time on that option had run out about five minutes ago. He'd just resolved to trying to catch his load with his hand as best as he could when he spotted his coffee mug.

"Do it for me, Will." Mac couldn't take her eyes off of him. She licked her lips when his cock released the first powerful spurt. It jerked and another thick rope arched through the air, landing noisily in the cup. "That's so fucking hot," Mackenzie moaned and sighed deeply. 

Will was beside himself. He couldn't believe how hot it was to listen to Mac come without seeing her.  "Mmmm, you sound so sexy when you come." He could picture her, leaning against the soundproof wall, with her hand shoved inside her panties, rubbing her clit. Her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip to suppress the onslaught of moans and gasps and whimpers as her whole body trembled. He could make out the squelching sound of her wet pussy through her harsh breathing that matched his own. Strings of come spilled from the tip of his cock as he emptied his balls completely, still remembering vividly what it had felt like when her spasms had milked him dry a couple of weeks ago.

Mackenzie licked her lips, watching Will squeeze out the last drops of semen with a long and satisfied sigh. Who would've thought a guy his age could still be such a gusher? She'd made a real mess, too, because he could make her wetter than any other man before him. Mac looked at her fingers, glistening from her arousal and had an idea. She popped the door to the control room open and checked the hallway to see if the air was clear. With not a soul in sight, she walked over to the studio Will was in.

He was slouched in his chair, cleaning his cock with a tissue. For a moment he startled, hearing footsteps on the linoleum floor, but then he recognized the familiar click clack of her heels and relaxed visibly. The news anchor swiveled his chair around to look at his senior producer. He bit back a chuckle when his dick lurched a little when he caught the scent of her arousal. Mackenzie's eyes were glued to his magnificent cock as she silently walked over. He wondered if the studio would still smell of sex when the next crew came in at the top of the hour.

She stood in front of him, worrying her lips nervously, as she offered him her hand. Will's tongue immediately darted out to lick off her juices. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, so he could press her against his news anchor desk. Briefly, he considered to hoist her up and lick her pussy clean but that was probably pushing their luck tonight. Instead he sucked her pointer into his mouth, locking his eyes with hers. He couldn't help himself though and reached between her legs to cup her pussy. He found her panties were drenched with her juices.

The sound of a phone ringing tore through the silence. He startled and blinked a few times confused before he realized it was his BlackBerry. Quickly, he grabbed his cell.

"It's George," he explained as he picked up. The grin on his face told her, that the baby must be here. She raised her eyebrows curiously and he mouthed 'girl' to her.

"That's wonderful!" She beamed.

"Congratulations to the proud father from Mac and me, let me put you on speaker," Will finally managed to get a word in. Usually a man of few words, Jackson was gushing like a waterfall about his first-born. Mac and Will exchanged twin grins. 

"Well, let us know when you're up for visitors," Mac reminded her boss as the conversation started to wind down.

"And don't worry about the show. Mac was fantastic tonight." Will glanced at her and caught her blushing. "We can manage without you the rest of the week, ok? Enjoy fatherhood. Bye." 

Their phones buzzed with an incoming message from George, in which he shared the first picture of his daughter.

Will suggested, "Let's clean up and tell the minions so they know what they've been toasting to all night."

She looked at him undecided. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Course you can," he muttered as he interlaced their fingers on their way to the door, "what a stupid question."

"Don't forget your evidence," she quipped and let go of his hand. She chuckled as Will dashed back to his desk for his mug.

They left the studio and walked back to their newsroom quietly. Mackenzie stopped at her desk to retrieve her go bag. When she entered his office, he had already loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Clearly, he figured since they were alone and she'd already seen it all, there was no need to be shy around her. Still, she slipped wordlessly past him into his bathroom to wash.

* * *

"I think my appearance just put a serious damper on their party," Will commented to Mac. The moment the staff spotted him, they froze and stared at him wide-eyed. "It's like I caught them with their hands in the cookie jar."

"Don't be stupid, Will," she rolled her eyes, "they're just curious if you've got news from George. Go ahead tell 'em." She shoved him gently forward and he cast her an exasperated look.

"Alright, listen up everybody. Denise Jackson was born today at 6.23pm, clocking in at 6.2 pounds and 19 inches long. The proud parents are ecstatic and George can't stop talking about her, so you may want to hold off on calling and visiting them until he's in control of his tongue again." Everyone chuckled. "That being said, next round is on me."

The staff gave a few cheers and returned to their conversations. 

"See?" Mackenzie smiled triumphantly, "I told you so."

Will remained skeptical and opted for a spot at the bar a little away from the boisterous staff. He ordered two beers for them and gave the bartender his credit card to open a tab for the newsroom.

"Yo man," Ben patted him on the shoulder and motioned to make that three beers, "thanks for the round."

"You're welcome."

The booker looked back and forth between the senior producer and news anchor. "Good show tonight, we watched in here. You did George proud."

"As I'm sure all of you will until he comes back next week."

"Who'll be acting as EP?" Ben wanted to know.

"It's only for a few days, so I won't have someone new come to fill in. You'll report to Mac," Will raised his eyebrows, "unless you've got a problem with that?"

The booker recognized the subtle challenge for what it was and chose not to take the bait. Mac may have been the senior producer but Ben was the journalist with the most seniority in the bullpen. At 34 years of age, he had been Jackson's trusted booker even before McNews and worked in their newsroom from the beginning. "Nah, fine with me. She's solid for her age." He leaned forward and smiled at Mackenzie reassuringly, "Don't worry. We'll have your back until George returns."

"Good," Mac only half-joked, "because I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

Will rolled his eyes, "From the woman who just aced her first rodeo." 

Three bottles appeared in front of the trio and Ben swiped his off the counter, before he left to share the news that Mac was going to be in charge for a few days with the others.

"You'll do fine. You've got me. I won't let you make me say anything embarrassing on TV."

"Aw, there go my plans of having you yell 'I'm mad as hell and I won't take it anymore!' live on national TV," she chuckled and tipped back her bottle.

"You realize now I'll never be able to sit down behind that desk without getting hard."

"I'd offer to hide under it and relieve you during breaks but you just made me acting EP until George gets back, so I'll be too busy in the control room."

Will decided to go all in and moved the bottles out of Mackenzie's reach just to be safe. He took a deep breath, "I know I totally blew it with you but I'm going to ask you anyway. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

"Will..." Mac sighed, "it's not that I'm not attracted to you... because I _am_ totally attracted to you."

The corner of his mouth turned up into a smug grin, when he interrupted her, "Then give me a chance to redeem myself."

"I just don't think it's a good idea if my boss becomes my rebound guy. You saw what happens when we fight."

"Come on, Mackenzie, one real date to prove to you that I'm actually one of the good guys."

"Who happens to suffer from foot-in-mouth disease?" She teased him and Will took that as a sign to forge on.

"What you said earlier in the control room... nothing could be further from the truth. I think the world of you, Mackenzie, so let me make things right with you."

She looked at him undecided.

"Come on, Mac, just one date. Where's the harm in that? We'll drink fine wine over delicious food. You talk, I listen. I slip in a few compliments about your hair and dress, making you blush, while you keep up the casual appearance that you did not just spend two hours in front of your mirror deciding what to wear. You opt to forego dessert, claiming you need to watch your figure, but end up stealing half my chocolate cake anyway. Afterwards I'll walk you home. Nothing has to happen. I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman, which doesn't mean I'd mind a shy kiss good-night on your front step if you enjoyed our date. But that's totally optional, really, cheek will do."

Mac felt her heart melt a little at the way he'd just said those words and looked at her. "I'll have you know that I never pass up chocolate cake. It's my favorite."

"Matt!" Will bellowed.

"That's not his name," Mackenzie pointed out quickly.

"Yes?" Mark's head popped up beside the news anchor anyway.

"I need a list of top ten restaurants in D.C. serving chocolate cake."

"Now?" His assistant looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Morning will do," Will grinned, never taking his eyes off Mackenzie.

"Okay," Mark shrugged his shoulders, used to his boss's unusual requests and grabbed Mac's arm. "We need a referee. Stacy and Frank are doing tequila shots again. It's last man standing."

"You guys know that we still have a show to do tomorrow?" Mac shook her head disapprovingly.

"Seriously?" Mark scoffed, "You're pulling rank on us already?" He glared at Will, "You just _had_ to make her acting executive producer, didn't you? Gee, thanks a lot, Will, she used to be fun." 

Will raised his eyes amused.

"Sorry," Mackenzie apologized as she was dragged over to the crowd that had gathered around the table where the digital and associate producer got ready to face off.

* * *

"I'm sorry about Mr. McAvoy," Simon's voice startled Mackenzie out of her daydream.

"Jesus, Simon, if you give all your passengers heart attacks, you'll run out of customers!" Mac put her hand over her racing heart.

"I'm sorry," the driver apologized, "I didn't mean to scare you. When you didn't come, I followed you in here to check on you."

"I'm alright," she quickly reassured him, "don't worry, Simon, you're fine." She gathered the mail on her desk to take home. She was about halfway through her own correspondence when Don and Molly had interrupted her but she still had to scan Will's for anything important.

"I recognized him from his poster in the hall while I waited outside. I saw it on the news tonight. I hope they'll release your husband soon." Simon's sincere smile was full of sympathy.

"Thank you," Mac smiled back but couldn't keep the sadness out of her voice. "You ever catch his show?" She asked casually as she stuffed the mail into her purse.

"Sometimes," Simon shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you think?" She winked at him, "Full disclosure, I'm not only his wife but also his executive producer."

"He's okay," Simon grinned, "for a republican anyway."

Mackenzie laughed out loud, "He'll be thrilled to hear that. He hates it when people mistake him for a closet liberal."

"Come on," Simon nodded his head to the exit, "let me drive you home before Mr. Skinner fires us both."

"Oh, he'd love to exercise that right just to demonstrate that now he can do it," Mac chuckled. "Until last week the only one who could fire me was my husband."

"Your husband's the only one with power to fire you?" Simon looked at Mac askance as they crossed the bullpen, shaking his head. "That's seriously messed up."

"Wait till you hear how much money he forfeited over the last three years for that privilege." Mac grinned.

"Was that some weird kind of dower or dowry or whatever it's called?" Simon deadpanned.

Mackenzie laughed out loud, "I'm gonna like you, Simon, you're funny. I need that right now."

"Good, because Mr. Skinner hired me for all of next week."


	6. Under Pressure

On the way to the car, Mac passed the large portraits of ACN's most popular news anchors in the hallway. Will's picture was now joined by Elliot and Sloan, who were followed by Jane Barrow and Terry Smith. After Genoa, AWM had thought it prudent to revamp the network away from Will and News Night, promoting its other shows and anchors more. The irony was not lost on Mackenzie because it had been Jerry Dantana from the D.C. bureau in the first place who wreaked havoc on their reputation and committed professional suicide on behalf of all of them. However, that tidbit had never taken fully hold with the public who continued to blame and punish Will and News Night with their prolonged suspension of viewership. Fourth in households and demo.

Kundu was supposed to be their break from the downward spiral they'd been on ever since Genoa. Their chance to prove they could do it right and win the trust of the audience back like Leona Lansing had instructed them to. The little engine that could. Like phoenix rising from the ashes. And now it was all in vain, all for naught. They'd lost the story, the Lansings had lost ACN, she had lost Will and he had lost his freedom.

As she walked by Jane Barrow's giant head, Mackenzie was reminded of the small blessings in her life. Three years ago, Will's stint in prison would've meant flying in her old nemesis from D.C. to anchor News Night but now Sloan was thankfully in a position to fill in for him. If there was one thing she hated more than seeing his chair empty, it was someone else occupying it. Sloan's presence softened the blow a little bit. 

During Will's hospitalization, Mac had found excuse after excuse to stay away from the newsroom until she was running out of pretexts and pretenses to let Jim run the show. She was fairly certain the only reason Will had not had her removed from his visitors list and put up with her day after day was because he knew about their rivalry and checkered past. Like a bad penny, Jane Barrow kept popping up in her life over and over again.

* * *

"Alright, everybody, let's hear ideas for today's show," Mackenzie looked at the staff gathered around her desk in the bullpen. 

Kristen opened with, "A woman in Germany was arrested today for killing nine of her newborn babies." Everyone gasped horrified. "It gets worse," she glanced at her colleagues, "she buried them in flower pots."

"Well, I'm glad George wasn't here for this one," Mac muttered. She propped her hip on her desk and folded her arms, pondering a decision for a moment. "How's that news?"

"Huh?" Everyone stared at her in confusion.

"I'm serious, in what way is this piece of information relevant to your life?" The senior producer glanced at the news anchor nervously to gauge his reaction. While Will had given her practically free reign at the morning's pitch meeting, he probably didn't mean for her to revamp their entire show at the 1pm rundown. Seeing the small smirk play around his lips, however, she continued more confidently, "What can you do with this information?" When she was met with silence, Mac nodded her head. "That's what I'm talking about. It's _sensationalist_. It's _voyeuristic_. It's _infotainment_. It's _not_ _news_. Provided she really did it, which we won't know until she's convicted, this poor woman's mental health tragedy is exploited by media around the world who paint her as the next Medea for the only purpose of  _entertaining_ people. Let's try something new this week, shall we? Let's stick to stories that have a profound or immediate effect on people's lives."

"But isn't it in the public interest to report crimes? If there's a serial murderer out and about in a neighborhood, we'd report it, too," Paul pointed out, "to alert people to the danger."

"Do you live in Germany?" Mac cocked her head and half the group snorted.

"Well, no," Paul admitted.

"Then how does this story affect you? She's not coming to get _your_ children. In fact, she didn't go out on a killing spree, murdering _anyone's_ children. So it's really none of your business what she did. Yes, there was a crime committed on her property and the proper authorities are investigating. Since they have a suspect in custody, they're obviously doing their jobs, so nothing to criticize there. Nothing to see here, so move along."

"No, it's not," Kristen spoke up, "if the system were working, she wouldn't have ended up in a situation where she felt the only way out was to kill her innocent newborns. The system failed her. And that's the story reporters should be chasing. How come nobody helped this woman? How do you not notice nine pregnancies?!? I don't care if she told people they were stillborn or miscarried but what are the odds of that happening nine times to a single woman? What about the doctors? Her family? Her friends? Her neighbors? Why didn't anyone alert social services or whatever they have in Germany? I mean they must have some kind of welfare system. What did they do to help this poor woman?"

"Thank you!" Mac pointed her hands at the desk producer. "Now, if you want to use German Medea as a hook to investigate what kind of support social services in the U.S. provide to young, inexperienced or overwhelmed mothers of any age, really, here in D.C., you can have a segment in the C-Block anytime this week."

"Okay," Kristen nodded.

"What else is on the menu for today?" Mac looked into the eager faces of her staff.

"Paul Hackett and Jean Schmidt are facing off in a special elections race for Ohio's second congressional district today. The Republicans could be losing their stronghold on what used to be a safe district." Ben reminded everyone.

"We'll mention it," Will shook his head, "but we air too soon for anything significant to happen by then."

"Bush named John Bolton the US Ambassador to the UN yesterday. It's a one year recess appointment obviously because he can't get clearance in the Senate." Stacy handed a cue card with the details to her senior producer who fixed it with a magnet to the whiteboard. 

"He's a neoconservative," Will chimed in, "worked as Assistant Attorney General in the eighties and has been a favorite of Reagan and both Bush administrations. A or B-Block," he suggested.

"Great," Paul replied sarcastically, "shouldn't take him long to find another country there to invade on false WMD charges." He looked up and commented dryly, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we were going to explain how each segment related to our lives from now on."

Will opened his mouth to discipline the young AP but Mac cut in, "If you have something you need to get off your chest, Paul, just spit it out. I don't mind the sarcasm but I'm not a huge fan of your passive-aggressive behaviour. I do like your suggestion, though, about including why we should do the segment on our show in a pitch, so I'd like everyone to try that."

The news anchor slumped back into his chair, impressed with how Mackenzie handled the situation.

"Speaking of Bush," Wesley piped up, "he just publicly endorsed Intelligent Design as a valid scientific theory that ought to be taught at schools."

Mackenzie groaned, "Of course, he did. I suppose the President of the United States has come into possession of undeniable scientific evidence that challenges Darwinism but is keeping it under wraps for reasons of national security? We wouldn't want the Vatican to annex us."

"Hey," Wesley held up his hands defensively, "don't shoot the messenger!" 

Reluctantly and with great scorn Mackenzie pinned Wesley's card to the whiteboard.

"That's our top story," Will's irritation was palpable. "We're going to start teaching religion to our kids in biology, their parents should know." 

Mac slid the note to the top of the board.

"Speaking of science," Deb picked up the ball, "NASA announced that they're having some repair done on the Discovery in order to guarantee safe re-entry to earth on the ninth."

"Well, that's reassuring," Ben said sarcastically.

"Also they're getting ready to launch the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter in ten days."

"You can have a segment for that on the eleventh when there's actually something reportable," Mac shut the science reporter's fishing for air time down immediately. "Find out more about that Space Shuttle repair and I might give you 90 seconds in the E-Block."

"Okay," Deb looked pleased, "I've got the info, I just didn't want to bore everyone with the technical details, but I'd rather have two minutes for a Stanford experimental study that might prove to be a huge step in fighting cancer. They're using nanotechnology to target cancerous cells only, leaving healthy ones untouched."

"Done and done," Mac fixed both cards to the board. "What's up in your part of the world, Paul?"

"The usual, you know. Another day in Iraq, another 15 dead following an insurgent attack." He sighed. "Israeli and Palestinians are still not getting along. Explosions in Turkey at a tourist resort but no word yet on whether it was a terrorist plot, officially it was a gas leak but police are still investigating."

"How's the disengagement in the Gaza Strip coming along?"

"Just getting to that part," Paul picked up his cards and gave them to her, "Protests in Sderot. Numbers fluctuate from ten to fifty thousand people. They're kept in check by 30,000 Israeli soldiers and police officers. It's a powder keg, according to local media, they've all but been warning of a potential Civil War."

"Stacy, you've got anything for me?"

"Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia are cracking down on pirates." Feeling everyone's eyes on her, she felt the need to clarify. "Real ones, I mean, with ships and boats in the Malacca Strait, not the entertainment industry."

"No, I got you the first time," Mac nodded, "anything else?"

"Frank? Got a gadget of the week yet?" Will asked his digital producer.

"Nope, still looking. Nothing struck my fancy so far but the week is still young."

"Okay, try to find something new-age-y for the kicker tonight. Pop culture or new media will do. Thank you, everyone, great meeting." Mac dismissed he staff and Will rolled his chair over. Huddled together at her desk, they arranged segments into blocks, allocating air time. He couldn't resist putting his hand on her back, which earned him a quirked eyebrow from her.

"Do you like classic movies?" He asked her on a hunch based on something Molly had said the other night.

"Hm?"

"Old movies," he prompted her again, "do you like them?"

"Do you mean _Metropolis_ old or _Citizen Kane_ old?"

"The latter actually."

"Good, 'cause I hate silent movies," she informed him.

"Duly noted," he gave a solemn nod. "They're doing an Orson Welles retrospective at the waterfront park this month and showing it Thursday. They start at sunset, so we could leave after the show, grab a bite to eat and still be there early enough to find a spot with a reasonable view."

"Or we could just head over there after the broadcast ends, pick up something to eat on our way there, get _great_ spots and have a picnic while we're waiting for the movie to start." She just looked at him with that smile of hers and his heart skipped a beat.

"So it's a date?" He raised his eyebrows.

She nodded and he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, Mac, graphics wants to talk to you about the Intelligent Design segment," Wesley called out to her from his desk.

"Right," she sighed at the interruption, "I'll meet with Dax and you go start your copy."

"I'll have it on your desk by four."

* * *

"There's been a plane crash sort of in Toronto," Mackenzie panted breathlessly as she stuck her head into the hair and make-up room. "Hi, Dee."

The make-up artist greeted her with a smile.

"What do you mean sort of?" Will swiveled around in his chair.

"An airbus 340 with approximately 300 people on board from AirFrance," Mac looked at the notes in her hand, "overshot runway 24L and crashed into Etio.. Etobe... E-to-bi-coke Creek."

"Casualties?"

"We don't know yet. It just hit the wires," she glanced at her watch, "it happened like 15 minutes ago. We're the first going live with the story."

"Are the kids working on it?"

She gave him _the look_ , "No, I thought now would be a good time to give them money for the icecream truck. _Of course, they're fucking on it!_ " 

Will kept his voice low to level with her, lest she'd let panic get the better of her. "Throw out the F-Block. We open with the crash."

"Okay," she nodded and took a few calming breaths. "Do you want me to call George in?"

"No, because you can do this," he reminded her. "I wanna know how many dead, how many Americans and how the fuck that creek is pronounced correctly. Ok?"

"Ben contacted our local affiliate in Toronto," she mentioned, "they've already got a team en route to the site. He's waiting on a statement from AirFrance."

"Good, we'll cut to them for the A-Block." Will nodded. "You're doing great, Mac. Tell her she's doing great, Dee."

"Knock 'em dead, honey," Deirdre tooted and they looked at each other uncomfortably. "Okay, that was a highly inappropriate figure of speech considering the circumstances. Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Got it!" Mac grinned and left. Deirdre turned back to finish Will's make-up and caught him blatantly staring at Mackenzie's behind as she stalked out of the room. The beautician smacked his head.

"Ow!" Will reached for the back of his head, "What did you do that for?"

"You stay away from her, McAvoy!" Dee gave him a stern look. "She's got a boyfriend, don't go borrowing trouble."

"She broke up with Brian," Will grinned smugly, "and I wouldn't mind her kind of trouble in my life at all."

"Don't even _think_ about tapping that ass."

"I'm not," he started, "I wasn't..."

She fixed him with a no-nonsense look. "I saw you staring at her bootie."

"Technically," he held up his index finger, "I was admiring her _legs_."

"You can chase any skirt you want except hers. I won't let you ruin her life with an office fling that can only blow up in her face. She's such a sweet and innocent girl. You can't seduce her and move on to the next one like you do with all the other women in your life."

"She's not as innocent as you think," Will piped up, thinking about their illicit tryst in the studio.

Dee pushed out one hip and put her hand on it. She glared at her on-air talent. "I swear to God, if you've already inducted her into your hall of fame..."

"I haven't," Will lied quickly and far too easily. "She just doesn't like being called innocent is all. She'll have a fit. " And throw drinks in your face. And then talk dirty to you until you erupt like Mount St. Helens just to prove her point.

"Oh," Deirdre resumed putting the finishing touches on Will's face. "Well, just be nice to her. She'll need a friend right now and, between you and me, I don't think she's got that many here."

"I am," Will protested, "I'm a very nice boss. I'm affable!" 

"Uh-huh," Dee nodded skeptically.

"And for the record, women come onto me. What am I supposed to do? Turn them away? I'm only a man!"

"For starters, you could try your hand at a serious relationship. You know, one that lasts longer than three months?"

"I'm trying," Will insisted. "I know it looks like I'm a womanizer but it's really the women. The relationships just start to fizzle out."

"Maybe that's because you're not looking for dates in the right places. Try someone your own age who's not after you for your TV fame and money."

"First of all, women my age either come with massive baggage or are already taken. Second, it's a myth that gold-diggers are always young; mature women are just as much attracted to wealth and fame. Third, I'm not nearly making as much as you think I do, it's not like I'm anchoring in primetime."

"It's enough to attract gold-diggers, and before you roll your eyes, need I remind you of vampire girl? That chick probably got a real kick out of watching you on her TV with her hickey on your neck. When's the last time you saw _her_?"

Will glanced at the door and opened his mouth for a quick rejoinder but thought the better of it. With his track record of putting his foot into his mouth, this was one of those occasions where silence was indeed golden.

* * *

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me!" Mackenzie exclaimed when she recognized her old frenemy on the live feed from Toronto. She spoke into the desk microphone, "Hi, Jane, this is Mackenzie in D.C."

She could see the surprise register on the reporter's face.

"Mac! I didn't know you were a studio producer in D.C. now!"

"Surprise!" The senior producer dispensed with pleasantries. "Listen, you'll be on in about five minutes. We'll start the broadcast in three minutes, at the top of the hour, Will vamps a little about the plane crash before he tosses to you for your segment."

"Copy," Jane nodded and fumbled with her ear-piece.

"Can you hear me alright?"

"Yes, just.... nervous, you know."

"You've done this before, haven't you?" Mac asked with dread.

"Oh, of course, but this is Will McAvoy, he's got a reputation for being difficult."

"He's not if you're professional," Mac came to his defense. Whom was she kidding? He was going to make her look the amateur she was because if there was one thing in the world Will had no patience for it was dilettantes on the job. She couldn't wait. 

"Is he as debonair in real life as he looks on TV?" Jane wanted to know.

They boys in the control room turned to Mackenzie, grinning from ear to ear, "Yes, Mac, do you think Will's _de-bo-nair_?"

"Shut it," She narrowed her eyes at the guys and shook her head.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Jane continued.

Mackenzie spoke into the desk microphone again, "It's not enough you stole a job from under my nose, now you're gunning for my news anchor, too?"

"Excuse me?" Will looked up amused from editing his copy for breaking news content.

"God dammit," Mac cursed. She'd hit the wrong button and accidentally caught Will instead of Jane. "Sorry, Will, wrong button, I was talking to Jane."

"So is that what happened between you and her?" He raised his eyebrows curiously. "She steal a job and boyfriend from you?"

"None of your business," Mac snapped.

"Don't think I missed that you staked claim to me as _your_ news anchor," he grinned smugly into the camera.

The tech crew observed their exchange amused and somewhat curiously. Were the news anchor and senior producer flirting with each other? 

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Mac scoffed, "Dream on, McAvoy."

"Well, if you're not going to ask me out to the prom, do you mind if you cut down the background noise so I can finish editing my copy?"

"Right," Mac picked up a note Don had slipped her a minute ago, "we know now that there were 297 passengers on board, plus 12 crew members."

"Thanks," Will nodded as he wrote the information down.

"Hello?" Jane called out and waved into the camera, confused by the sudden interruption.

"Can you turn her off?" Mac asked Nick who killed Jane's audio feed. "Be advised that you'll have to carry her."

"Whom?" He was already crossing out and scribbling on his script, paying only half attention.

"Jane Barrow, our reporter on the ground at Pearson International in Toronto."

"Why?"

"Because she's can't report her own bowel movements without leading questions."

"O-kay," Will's head shot up because he wasn't used to Mackenzie using such a catty tone towards colleagues. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied too fast and firmly, "now finish your opening monologue. Sixty seconds."

"Copy that," Will nodded.

"Do we have the package from Toronto?" Mac asked Nick.

"Yes, already cued up. Ready to go after the intro graphics."

"Okay, bring her back," Mac nodded to the technical director and grabbed the desk microphone again. "Sorry, Jane, important studio business."

Barrow looked lightly miffed into the camera, "You can't just cut me off without telling me. We thought we'd lost the connection."

"I'm acting EP. I can do whatever I want to ensure a smooth broadcast. You'll be on in about ninety seconds, Jane. Start with the emergency evacuation and firefighting operations, then give us a quick summary of injuries, ok?"

"Copy," Jane nodded.

"Good."

"Thirty seconds," Nick warned everyone. Jane and Will schooled their faces, looking professionally into their respective cameras. Mackenzie took a deep breath and popped her fingers. Soon the show's brief jingle could be heard and then Will launched into the broadcast.

"Good evening, I'm Will McAvoy with breaking news. This is McNews on Tuesday, August 2nd and we've just learned that an Airbus A340, AirFrance Flight 358, en route from Paris, France to Toronto, Canada, carrying 297 passengers and 12 crew members, crashed shortly after landing at 4pm. Live for us at Pearson International Airport in Toronto is CNN correspondent Jane Barrow. Jane, what can you tell us about the incident involving AirFrance Flight 358? Can you confirm early reports that all 309 on board survived?"

"Will, we don't know much. Smoke is still billowing from the wreck as firefighters struggle to control the fire," Jane launched into her spiel and Will immediately zoned out after the first three sentences. "You weren't kidding," he muttered under his breath. She buried the lead when she didn't start with the fact that all people on board were safe and alive. And he'd offered it to her on a silver platter, giving her a chance to raise her profile, what a waste!

"I'm telling you, Mr. Bean could do a better job reporting the news than her!"

That garnered a lot of laughter from the control room and studio.

"Did Brian fuck her? Is that why he dumped you?" Will asked her bluntly. "You know I'll just keep asking so you might as well tell me now." 

"They didn't know that Brian and I broke up," Mac whimpered embarrassed as the occupants of the control room sent her sympathetic looks.

"Ooops," Will looked into the camera sheepishly, "I thought you switched me back. Sorry, Mac. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of the headset and switchboard soon enough. By the end of the week you'll be a pro, switching lines and running multiple conversations at once."

"And for the record, that's _not_ what happened," Mac pointed out firmly, "not that it's anyone's business but mine."

"So what's the story with you and Jane then?"

"Look at her," Mac scoffed, "I can't believe she got the foreign correspondent gig over me! Who cares if she looks better on camera than I do, she's the female Ron Burgundy! That's supposed to be me up there; Jane and I were up for the same promotion. And now she gets to travel the world while I'm stuck in this stupid studio!"

"You wanted to be a field reporter?" Will asked surprised.

At the same time, Nick cast her a disappointed glare, "Gee, Mac, tell us how you really feel."

Mackenzie ignored Will, eager to do damage control with the tech crew in the control room. "Oh, no, no, no. Guys, that's not how I meant it. You're all lovely to work with, it's just I never envisioned myself as a studio producer. When I grew up, I always wanted to be a broadcast journalist. You know, travel from hotspot to hotspot, report live from around the world as events were still unfolding, be part of history in the making. Have you never felt the desire to just go out there and do the news in the thick of it?"

"Nope," the crew in the control room chorused.

"Are you alright, Mac?" Will asked her concerned, "Cause it sounds like you're having a meltdown. Is she alright, folks?"

"I'm fine as long as you ask Jane about Americans among the injured passengers," she instructed him.

"Huh?"

"Jane's getting ready to toss back to you. She failed to mention the nationality of passengers and the types of injuries passengers sustained." She demonstrated how fit she was to see this broadcast through to the end by reminding him how to do his job. 

"Oh, okay," Will cleared his throat and faced his camera. "Jane, are there any US citizens among the injured passengers that we know of? Can you tell us a little more about the injuries?"

"Yes, we don't have that kind of information yet but I can confirm that there are no casualties, I repeat, _no casualties_ at this time. All 309 people on board survived the crash and exited the plane by emergency evacuation." 

"Let's go to commercial," Mac advised, "she doesn't really know anything. May not even be her fault, since it's too early in the game. No use torturing her with questions she doesn't know answers to and I'm not particularly wild about hearing her speculate."

"Thank you, Jane. This is obviously a developing story, which we will come back to throughout the night as more information comes to light. When we return, we'll be bringing you the latest from the White House."

They went to commercial and Jane asked, "Can you still hear me?"

"Yes," Will and Mac chorused.

"Are you planning on coming back to me at the end of the broadcast?" The field reporter wanted to know.

"Will you have anything newsworthy to air?" Mac asked her.

"How about an interview with an eyewitness or survivor? My field producer just told me he tracked some people down who saw the crash."

"I'll trim the Space Odyssey," Mac already started triage on the rundown.

"... and the Pirates of Penzance." Will finished for her. "We'll come back to you for the last five minutes of the show."

"Okey-doke," Jane grinned happily, "you were awesome by the way."

"Thank you," Will gave a curt nod as he reached for his mug. He didn't return the compliment and took a big gulp of water. He wasn't going to add insult to Mac's injury.

Jane took care of that for him. "You know, I'm flying down to D.C. next month for a screen test. ACN's looking for a new weekend anchor. We could go out for drinks sometime, unless you're afraid of a little competition?"

Will opened his mouth but Mac intercepted him via the desk mic before he could offend the young field reporter, "Thank you, Jane. You were great tonight." She glanced at Nick and made a cut-throat gesture, signaling him to kill the Toronto feed. "This isn't a new edition of _The Dating Game_ , though. We're a little busy here doing the news, but best of luck with your endeavors at ACN. We'll give you a ring at the bottom of the show." She cut off Jane again and looked at the other occupants in the room, "What?"

"I wouldn't be too jealous, Mac," Dax nodded at the monitor where Nick just killed Jane's feed, "she's in fucking _Toronto_. Barring tonight, when is there ever breaking news in Canada?"

Mac choked on a laugh.

"Yeah," Sylvie, the sound manager, nodded, "and unless you consider Poutine an exotic dish, it's hardly an international hotspot, either."

"Aw, I love you guys," Mac smiled at them.

Nobody noticed Will's smug grin on the camera while he waited for the commercials to end. He tapped his fingers together pleased, wondering how he could use Mackenzie's jealousy in his favor. In the meantime the tech guys in the control room tried to outdo each other with mock indecent proposals for her.

"Don't rat me out to HR," Nick grinned, "but I'll take you over Jane, on or off-screen, anytime."

"I'll keep that in mind when I get lonely tonight," she winked at the technical director.

"Hey," Will interjected but was ignored.

"I bet if you'd gotten the foreign correspondent gig, we'd be trying to hear you over a dozen IEDs whizzing by your head in Kabul," Amber, the assistant director, smiled at the senior producer.

"And you know you'd totally rock that Kevlar," Zach from the teleprompter pumped his fist. "You'd look really hot in your field gear. Could start a new fashion trend."

"Excuse me?" Will tried to get their attention again.

"Oh knock it off, guys, you're embarrassing me." 

"She's got nothing on you, Mac."

"Hello?!?" Will yelled and gesticulated wildly, "News anchor going back live here! Where the hell are we in the commercial break? Can someone count me in?!?"

"What?!" Mackenzie looked at him irritated. "Oh, shit."

"Sorry, Will, you're back in thirty..." Nick informed him sheepishly. 

* * *

As they exited the AWM headquarters on the corner of 42nd and 6th, Mackenzie realized horrified that the real reason Charlie had sent a car for her was the media interest in Will's news story. A few of her colleagues had apparently decided to camp outside the building when they caught wind that she was still inside. You'd think they would've gotten the message when she started declining and ignoring all of their calls since Will's arrest but apparently professional courtesy among colleagues didn't exist anymore.

Mac sighed and looked down at the sidewalk, as reporters scrambled to their feet and fiddled with their equipment to get her on camera, trying to leave work. Maybe Will wasn't big enough to jail, as he thought, but he was certainly big enough to generate a media frenzy over his arrest. She'd purposely avoided watching the other news channels covering Will's case tonight because she knew it would only upset her more. While Sloan had mentioned the reason why she would be filling in for Will on News Night for the foreseeable future, Eliot and Don had only run a brief segment out of respect for Mac. She'd made it very clear that she did not want them to exploit Will's arrest for a ratings ploy. Of course, that didn't stop other stations, papers and magazines from reporting the news. And as much as she hated it, a news anchor going to jail for protecting his source was a legit top story. Hopefully once the Kundu story hit the news cycle, they'd connect the dots and shift their attention from Will to the real story.

In the meantime, Simon tried to shield her from microphones that were thrust into her face and offensive questions as well as he could, as he guided her to his waiting car. The reporters' questions kept raining down on her and she realized that they were more interested in Mackenzie, the fiancée, than the EP, who just lost her news anchor, chasing an important story.

"Mackenzie, a statement?"

"Mac, why haven't you aired the story yet?"

"Mac! How's Will? Have you visited to your fiancé in jail yet?"

"Mac, why won't he give up his source if national security is at stake?"

"Do you think Will's got cold feet?"

What the fuck kind of question was that? Did that little punk just seriously suggest Will would pick jail time to get out of marrying her? Mackenzie started but Simon shook his head and opened the passenger door. Not worth the trouble. He blocked the hyenas' view as he ushered her into the car. It wouldn't take long until they found out about their whirlwind wedding today anyway, so she made a mental note to call her parents in the morning. Mac checked her watch, it was too early to call now and she was too exhausted anyway. Talking to her parents would only lead to a break down and she didn't have the strength left for that. Luckily they were five hours ahead in London and the late news cycle there just missed Will's arrest in the afternoon. Undoubtedly, though, they'd catch up over the slow weekend and she really didn't want her parents to find out about their new felonious son-in-law from a segment buried in the C-Block on BBC's  _Ten O'Clock News_. 

With a heavy sigh, Mac let her head fall back against the rest and closed her eyes. It felt weird to be on the other side of the business. For all the times she'd made fun of Will for creating headlines, he was much better at handling this than she was. He was used to the exposure while she had the protection of the control room. Outside the industry, nobody really knew her until Will decided to put a $250,000 ring on her finger; and even then, the public interest in their engagement had been transient at best in recent months. 

* * *

"It's funny how the greatest American movie of all time is based on one giant plot hole," Mackenzie mused. 

"What do you mean?" Will was perched on her desk. They'd just locked in the show and were now discussing their plans for the evening quietly.

"Well, you know, at the beginning when _Citizen Kane_ dies, he's all alone. There's not a single soul in the room with him. So how can anyone know what his last words were?"

Will blinked at her and took a deep breath as he felt the world shift on its axis a little. She may be cute as a button, but that didn't give her the right to ruin the greatest American movie of all time for him. "What are you saying? His nurse was there the whole time."

"No, she comes in when she hears the snow globe shatter on the floor," She reminded him.

"Then she heard him through the door."

"He rasped 'Rosebud' with his dying breath."

"Are you guys talking about _Citizen Kane_?" Don had overheard Mackenzie's last words and stopped by her desk. "I love that movie. I love all the old classics, _Sunset Boulevard_ , _Some Like it Hot_ , _Sweet Smell of Success_ , _Gone With the Wind_ ," he sighed, "they don't make 'em like that anymore."

"Oi, Ted Turner," Mackenzie waved in front of Don's dreamy face, "who's in the room with Charles Foster Kane when he dies?"

"Nobody," Don looks at her offended, she'd even ask such an idiotic question, "that's the whole point of the movie. For all his fame and money, he dies alone an old and miserable man, leaving everyone to wonder about the person behind the enigma."

Mac grins triumphantly at Will, "Told you so!"

The news anchor just groaned. "Actually, the point of the movie is Kane's struggle to grow up and operate in an adult world. Hence the snow globe and the sled, two staples of every childhood in this country. He's holding onto his childhood with everything he can, that's why he isolates himself from the real world and lives in his fantasy estate Xanadu."

"Actually it's called Neverland Ranch," Stacy threw in and Mackenzie, Don and Will looked at her like she had grown two extra heads.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" The news anchor asked the senior editor.

"Weren't you guys just talking about Michael Jackson? The rumors that he's gonna sell his estate to pay for his legal fees?"

"We're talking about _Citizen Kane_ ," Mac informed her.

"Oh, okay," Stacy shrugged her shoulders, "never seen that one."

"What do you mean you haven't seen  _Citizen Kane_?" Don asked her incredulously.

"It's in black and white!" The editor defended herself.

Will shook his head, "Kids today!"

"Who hasn't seen _Citizen Kane_?" Ben wanted to know.

"Stacy!" Mac ratted her out immediately. 

"You haven't watched  _Citizen Kane_? Seriously, what kind of reporter are you?" Paul gave his co-worker a skeptical once over.

"I've seen _Up, Close and Persona_ l," Stacy defended herself and a collective groan was heard from the newsroom. 

"Get her out of my newsroom," Will growled.

"That's not even..." Wesley shook his head aghast. "One's the greatest American movie of all time, the other is...a chick flick."

"Hey!" Deb looked up offended, "You take that back!"

Mackenzie and Will watched amused as the entire newsroom staff got into a passionate debate about Hollywood blockbusters, indie dramas and classic movies. Will whistled to bring back order and announced a new office policy. "Starting immediately, everyone in this newsroom is required to familiarize themselves with the top five best movies about journalism." He counted out with his fingers, " _Citizen Kane_ , _Network_ , _His Girl Friday_ , _All the President's Men_ , and _Broadcast News_."

* * *

"Hey," Mac crouched down on the lawn next to Will who kept to himself, "are you going to pout all evening?" She looked back to the group of staffers, lounging on blankets and chatting animatedly, while waiting for the screening.

"This is all your fault," the news anchor accused her, "if you didn't want to go out with me, you could've just said so. You didn't have to invite half the newsroom."

"They invited themselves," Mackenzie reminded him, "come to think of it, I've still got no fucking clue how they all ended up crashing our date in the first place. Oh wait a second, wasn't there some moron who implemented a new office rule about watching famous movies set in newsrooms? What did you think would happen?"

"This doesn't count," Will groused. "Chaperoning millennials isn't a date. I want a do-over for our do-over."

"And you shall have one," she nudged his shoulder. "Now come on and mingle or do you want to end up like Citizen Kane?"

Almost two hours later, when the butler in the movie explained how he'd overheard Charles Foster Kane utter his final word, Will smirked at Mac, feeling vindicated.

"He wasn't in the room," Mackenzie insisted.

"Maybe the camera's perspective was his," Will pointed out.

"So he stood there, rooted to the ground, waiting for the nurse to barge in?" Mac looked at him skeptically. "Face it, McAvoy, you can't talk yourself out of this gaping plot hole. It's still a good film, though."

"Hey," Don hissed, "will the two of you shut the fuck up? Some of as are watching a movie."

"Oh, knock it off, Siskel and Ebert," Mac shot back, "like you haven't seen it a thousand times before and know every line by heart."

Much to everyone's irritation, Don had been mouthing along to the dialogue the whole evening.

"Nice one," Will bumped their shoulders playfully.

"Thank you," Mac let her head fall a little to the side until it rested on his one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question to readers: Do you prefer one long, possibly monster chapter containing one theme, or do you prefer events of one flashback to be spread out over multiple shorter and/or medium-sized chapters? It won't really affect the schedule for updates but, personally, I worry that the flashback method will grow old quickly, so I'd like to hear opinions before I decide how to break up/organize the next flashback, which is turning into a small monstrosity because Will and Mac are just on fire in those scenes.


	7. Don't Stop Me Now

Traffic was comparatively light as the car headed up north on Sixth Avenue shortly after midnight. Their new apartment was located in the historic districts of the Upper Eastside near Lenox Hill. It was the ultimate contrast to Will's ultra-modern penthouse in Tribeca and her bustling apartment at Columbus Circle. Overzealous and filled with excitement over buying a fucking a condo  _together_ , Will and Mac had foolishly thought they could renovate the three-bedroom-apartment by themselves. Their enthusiasm had waned quickly, when it became clear that the previous owner had not disclosed the faulty wiring, and Will's mood gradually shifted from elated to perturbed with every paint swatch Mac brought home. Still, once the renovations were finished, they'd have their own little quiet, private refuge in the city that never sleeps, with a terrace view of Central Park in the west and the Chrysler Building due south.

Mackenzie played with her engagement ring as she gazed outside the car window, looking at the bright city lights. Her thoughts wandered to Will in his dark cell. Did he have trouble falling asleep without her by his side? They'd gotten used to each other so quickly again, fallen into old habits, as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, neither one of them was stupid enough to think they could pick up where they left off five years ago, but their ease and comfort around each other returned so naturally, it was a delight and relief. A little look here, a little touch there - and a whole lotta smiling and sex all around.

A cab, promoting _Kinky Boots_ , rushed by and the driver honked its horn as they waited their turn into 59th Street. Central Park loomed ahead of them in the dark, majestically and a little bit mysteriously. They had tickets for the show at the end of the month, Mac suddenly realized, and hopefully Will would be out by then or she'd have to take somebody else. Just the thought felt a little like cheating on him though. Broadway was kind of their thing. Well, Will was really the musical theater geek, she'd only played along when he constantly infused his daily conversations in the newsroom with references and puns from Broadway shows because her parents had instilled a love and appreciation for the arts from a young age and always taken her and her siblings to Sunday matinees.

* * *

Saturday evening, Will knocked on Mackenzie's door at 6 o'clock sharp. After a few moments of silence, he knocked again, this time louder. He heard slow movements on the other side of the door and figured Mac was still busy putting the finishing touches to her outfit. He pictured her stopping in front of her mirror in the hallway, checking her hair and make-up. The key turned in the lock and the door opened.

The newscaster held out the bunch of flowers that was so huge it blocked his entire field of vision proudly, "These are for you."

"Oh, thank you!" She said and took them, "You shouldn't have."

Will's eyes widened comically at first and then narrowed confused when he saw the elderly lady cradling his flowers like a baby.

"Will?" He heard Mackenzie call his name behind him. He turned around and there she was standing in the doorway of her apartment. He looked up at the letter on the door in front of him. Upon closer inspection, though, he realized that what he thought was an F was really an E whose lower arm was missing.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered as he stumbled over to her, pointing at the octogenarian with her flowers.

Mackenzie's neighbor beamed at them. "Is he yours?"

"Errr, yes," Mac pulled Will inside her apartment. "Sorry for the disturbance, Mrs. Friedman."

"Oh, don't worry. Such a nice young man, bringing _me_ flowers when he comes to pick _you_ up for your date." She gave Will an enchanted smile. "You two have a wonderful evening."

Mackenzie thanked her and quickly closed the door before she lost it. In the safety of her apartment, she snorted and shook her head at Will. "What on earth were you doing over there?"

"I got the doors mixed up."

"You've been here before," she knit her eyebrows.

"It was dark last time and I was preoccupied with other things," he reminded her softly, as he ran his hands along her sides. "Wasn't really paying attention to the layout of your building."

"You realize Mrs. Friedman is now going to expect flowers from you every time you come to see me. She's already a little senile and very set in her ways." Mackenzie put her hands on his shoulders, shaking her head amused.

"I'm sorry about your flowers. I'll get you new ones." He brought his hands to the small of her back, pulling her a little closer, and grinned, "That was the first time in years anyone called me a nice, _young_ man. She can have all the flowers she wants from me."

"I don't care about the flowers, silly," she giggled, "I'm worried she'll confuse you with her late husband and snatch you off the hallway next time you walk by so she can make out with you in her apartment." He looked at her so horrified, it made her laugh out loud. "Relax, I'm kidding. You look nothing like her dead husband," she paused for dramatic effect, "that I know of."

Still laughing, she pushed him back to finish getting ready. Will noticed her short, white summer dress for the first time and swallowed hard. His jaw dropped a little as he observed her flitting around the apartment in awe. "You look ravishing tonight," he finally found his voice.

"Thank you," she tilted her head and glanced at him as she fixed her earrings. She gave him a coy smile, "I wasn't sure what to wear because someone was so cryptic."

"Just making sure the minions can't crash our party again," he licked his lips, as his eyes roamed across the large expanse of her bare back. Dear God, was she trying to seduce him before they even made it to the restaurant?

"You look quite dapper yourself," Mackenzie patted the lapel of his blazer. He wore a semi-formal shirt and jeans combo underneath.

"Hm?" He looked at her lost and Mac grinned smugly. Will shook out of his reverie and tipped his head to the door, "Are you ready to go? We've got tickets for the theater at eight and it's a little bit of a drive to the restaurant and back. But it's worth it, the maître d' assured me they do have in fact the best chocolate cake in town when I made the reservations."

"Okay," she smiled and grabbed her purse on the way out. 

"You really do look beautiful," he mentioned again when she locked the door.

"So you've said," Mac tucked a strand of hair shyly behind her ear.

"It bears repeating."

* * *

They groaned when they exited the air-conditioned theater into the hot and humid night. Mackenzie shrugged off Will's jacket, which he had lent her inside, and returned it to him with a sweet, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiled at her brightly and draped his blazer over his elbow. She hooked her arm into his free one and they strolled down the street at a leisurely pace.

"You've been a little quiet all night," she observed.

"Just trying to keep my foot out of my mouth, which works best when I say nothing around you," he gave her a self-deprecating grin, "or anyone really."

"Oh come on," she nudged his shoulder playfully, "you're doing quite well. You've made it all the way through dinner and a show without a single faux pas."

"The Southern Gentleman's guidebook to dating has served me well," he quipped, "Ten foolproof rules to guarantee your next date won't end with her drink in your face."

Mackenzie snorted, "Is that what they teach you over in Nebraska?"

"I'm branching out," Will shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it's working. I had a great time tonight. You've absolutely redeemed yourself. I can't remember the last time someone's pulled out a chair for me at dinner."

"Ah," Wil grinned knowingly, "Rule #4. Always mind your manners. Don't forget your please and thank yous; open doors for her, take off your hat, offer your coat, stand up to greet her, pull out and slide back her chair gently."

"We'll have to get you a hat," she concluded dryly.

"You never told me how your trip to London was." He steered the conversation back to her.

"Good," she glanced up at him and smiled. "Turns out David was keeping a little secret from the rest of the family. His wife is pregnant again. Sheila had just dropped off my nephew Ian at kindergarten and was at King's Cross on her way to work when one of the trains blew up."

"That's horrible!" Will looked at her aghast.

"Yes, but she was lucky and didn't suffer any serious injuries. Just a few scrapes and bruises from falling debris. It was really a blessing in disguise. Ian had been unusually clingy that morning and made them late, otherwise she may have very well been on the train. Anyway, once the paramedics tending to her wounds found out she was pregnant, they admitted her to a hospital for further observation. They didn't want to risk a miscarriage with the blast and distress and all. So David asked my parents to pick up Ian and watch him while he stayed with Sheila in the hospital, which of course eventually forced them to spill the beans."

"So that's why you couldn't get a hold of anyone?"

"Yeah, dad waited until all McHales, born and unborn, were accounted for, safe and sound, before he called with the all-clear."

"Did they give you a hard time?" He glanced at her a little nervously, "About me?"

"Nah, not at all." She shook her head. 

"Good."

"Oh, have no doubts, they will," Mac reassured him, "but it's much more fun to have it hang over my head until Christmas and bring up 'my promiscuous lifestyle' over the holiday roast when Great-aunt Penelope visits."

"Of course," he replied dryly.

"You know that racist uncle with the homophobic slurs that almost every family hides embarrassed in their closet and only lets out on Thanksgiving?" She grinned and he nodded. "We've got Aunt Penelope. Pushing 90, she's the paragon of Victorian virtue. A consummate traditionalist and conservative monarchist, she refers to us here in the colonies."

"You're kidding!"

"She'll be suitably horrified to learn her little pilgrim - that's what she calls me because I was born in New York City - has hooked up with another rebel. She had nothing but scorn for Brian even though she's never even met him." 

Will chuckled.

"She's not quite right," Mac tipped her temple, "because she fell off a horse and hit her head many years ago. She just gets confused. Easily. Like a lot. The doctors can't quite figure out what's wrong with her brain nor explain her weird condition. My dad feels a little guilty because she's got nobody else left since my grandparents passed away. He fights about her a lot with my uncle. She's considered persona non-grata at our extended family gatherings," Mac winked at him, "because she'd give you a run for your money in the social gaffe department. So he goes to the home and picks her up for Christmas and has her spend the holidays with us. She's a sweet, old lady really who just sometimes thinks the Queen is an usurper to King George's throne." Mackenzie shrugged her shoulders.

They slowed down as they turned into the side street where he'd parked his car.

"Your carriage awaits, Milady," Will opened the electronic locks and held the passenger door open for her to slide into her seat.

She waited for him to round the vehicle and teased him when he got behind the wheel. "You're really enjoying this Southern Belle thing, aren't you?"

"A little chivalry has never hurt anyone," he beamed at her and started the engine. "Isn't that what every girl wants? Prince Charming? Her very own knight in shining armor?"

"I'm not some damsel in distress you need to rescue," she remarked a little more pointedly than she intended to.

"It was a joke," he glanced at her nervously as he pulled out onto the street.

"You see, with you I'm not one hundred per cent sure it's just a lark." Mac sighed and reminded him, "You can be a little patronizing sometimes and, considering you've been in cahoots with my father, I'm not sure if it was a mere coincidence you took me to see _Little Shop of Horrors_  for our first date tonight."

Will stopped at a red light and was glad for the opportunity to turn his attention away from the road to her for a moment, "First of all, I'm not in cahoots with your dad. I wish I'd never answered your damn phone and I haven't spoken to him since that stupid call from hell anyway. Second, I'm sorry I come across as patronizing when really I'm just trying to be supportive. And third, the only reason I picked _Little Shop of Horrors_ for our date was because the minions torpedoed our last one and it happened to be one of the few things playing tonight with tickets available on short notice. I thought you'd enjoy it because you're the only one around the newsroom who gets all my show references so clearly you must be into musical theater and four, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

A car honked behind them to remind Will that the light was green. He sighed frustrated and pulled ahead.

"You weren't trying to use Audrey subtly as a cautionary tale for me?"

"What?" He looked at her completely bewildered. "Gee, Mac don't read so much into everything I do! Why would..." he trailed off as it dawned on him what she was implying. "Did that bastard raise his hand against you?"

"Eyes on the road!" Mac admonished him. She'd never heard him use that deep, low tone of voice before. It wasn't the growl that caused a shiver to run down her spine but the icy cold glare and serenity with which he said it. He sounded positively threatening and she had no doubt that, at the slightest hint of abuse, Will would turn the car around and drive over to her ex's place to reduce him to a pulp. "Brian never hit me if that's what you're asking."

Will breathed a sigh of relief. He would've never forgiven himself if he'd let Mac stay in a physically abusive relationship on his guard. It was hard enough to stand back and watch her mope around the newsroom after Brian had obviously once again made disparaging comments about her work, diminished her achievements or made fun of her naïve idealism otherwise. "He didn't have to," Will grunted, "he just used his words instead."

"Brian just gets frustrated with people because he's so incredibly smart and they don't understand him."

He couldn't believe it, she was still defending that jackass. "You're the smartest person I know," Will told her, "and not once have I ever seen or heard you take your frustrations out on the minions when they screwed up."

"Unlike you." A fainthearted grin tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah," he shrugged his shoulders, "but we've already established that I'm a blithering idiot." 

Mac grinned. She really liked his self-deprecating sense of humor. A feature that truly set him apart from Brian, who always took himself too seriously.

"You've got all the character he lacks, Mackenzie," Will told her, "you're too good for him. He doesn't deserve your forgiveness."

"Funny," she chirped, "now you're sounding like my father again."

He just grunted as he stopped at another red light.

"I don't like it when you patronize me," Mackenzie confessed, "because it reminds me of him. Brian, I mean, not my dad. I didn't realize it until we broke up this time but everything always had to be on his terms. Where we went for dinner, who we hung out with, what we did on the weekends. I like being in charge of my own life. It's my prerogative to make my own decisions and learn from my mistakes."

"Of course, it is," Will smiled at her. Maybe she was finally coming to her senses and Brenner's hold over her was slowly dissipating.

"What?" She frowned, "Why are you grinning like a loon?"

"Because it makes me happy to hear you say that," he shrugged his shoulders. "You're a very smart, independent and accomplished young lady, Mac. The world is your oyster. Not many women your age climb up the career ladder to senior producer as quickly as you did. You're not taking crap from anyone at work, so why you'd let a moron like Brenner run your home life is beyond me."

"Then why do you keep going all _Pride and Prejudice_ on me?"

"I've never read a book by Jane Austen," Will confessed, "so I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about."

"You know the stuff you do..." she looked at him amused, "like courting me as if I were a Southern Belle, sending me off to London on a whim, picking up my tab at bars, temporarily promoting me, lecturing me about my boyfriends, making decisions for me without asking..." She trailed off. "It makes me feel inferior when you do that. Like you don't think I can take care of myself."

"I don't," Will paused, "I've never..." He tried again, "I'm not like Brian, Mackenzie, I don't ever want to control you or any aspect of your life. It's never even occurred to me that it might feel like that to you. I just wanted to do something nice for you with the London vacation. No hidden agenda, no ulterior motives, well, except maybe to make you happy and see that infectious smile on your beautiful face. And making you George's replacement for this week was really the most logical solution. You know how much I hate change and I just knew you were up for the job. I think we work really well together, don't you agree?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "It's green," she pointed at the lights before another impatient driver honked at them again. They rode in silence for a few moments before Mac blurted out in disbelief, "You've never read Jane Austen?"

"No, it wasn't on the syllabus."

" _Sense and Sensibility_?"

He shook his head, looking for a spot to park.

" _Emma_?"

"Nope."

" _Mansfield Park_?"

"Mac, which part of I've never read Jane Austen did you not understand?" He flicked his eyes at her, before he turned onto her street, "Read or Austen?"

"You could've watched a movie. The BBC turned some of them into really good TV series. There's the one with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy..." 

"Alright, let me clarify I have never _read_ nor _watched_ anything by Jane Austen."

"Well, you should," Mac nodded emphatically, "she's a classic. You've read Dickens, haven't you?"

"I suffered through _A Tale of Two Cities_ in college," he confirmed.

"I thought that's what you're supposed to do when you're in a serious relationship." She suddenly changed topics out of the blue and it took him a moment to catch up to the fact that they were back to Brian again. "You know, compromise? Give a little, take a little?"

"Mac, there's a difference between compromising and calling all the shots in a relationship."

"Don't you think I know that?" She huffed. "By the time I realized I was the one doing all the giving and Brian just kept taking and taking all the time, it was too late to change our pattern." She shook her head and declared, "Which is why he really has to promise to change and grovel if he wants me back."

Will sighed. One step forward, two steps back. He circled around her block once more, hoping he missed a spot.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he parked his car at his apartment. He only lived a few blocks from her anyway and asked her if it was okay if he walked her home. She actually seemed thrilled at the prospect of a midnight stroll. He just beamed at her when she laced their fingers together and they walked the short distance back to her place. They maundered in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's company, stealing glances and exchanging smiles.

"So how does a farm boy from Nebraska become a musical theater geek anyway?" Mac teased him.

Will shrugged his shoulders, "When I was a kid, the local affiliates played all the old movie musicals on the weekends. You know Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire...I had the biggest crush on Ginger Rogers." He didn't mention that the TV belonged to their neighbors one farm over where the McAvoy kids frequently fled to when the violence at home got out of hand.

Mac chuckled.

"I didn't think I'd have a snowball's chance in hell with her unless I became the next Fred Astaire, so I took tap dancing lessons when I was eleven," he confessed. 

"You didn't," she stopped and grinned up at him.

He just slouched his shoulders sheepishly. "I got to meet her when I worked at the White House. She was a Kennedy Honoree in the nineties."

"Did you ask her for a dance?" Mac smirked as she fell into step with him again.

"No," he laughed out, "she was like eighty years old then, but I got to shake her hand, which was still pretty cool for the little farm boy from Nebraska, especially because she died shortly after." 

"I miss Broadway," Mac gave a happy sigh. "When we lived in New York, my parents always took us kids to Sunday matinees. I was thrilled when I was finally old enough to join because my sisters and brother were always gushing about the stage sets and humming the songs around the house - _The King and I_ ,  _Annie_ , _Joseph_ , _42nd_ _Street, My Fair Lady, Camelot_ and so on."

"Did you have a favorite one?"

" _Cats_ ," Mac grinned and Will winced. Sensing his disapproval, she defended her choice,"I was like six years old and just fascinated with those furry feline costumes. For the longest time my brother had me convinced that I caused a diplomatic incident and we had to leave the country because I pulled Mr. Mistoffelees' tail when he whizzed by me in the aisle."

"Whoa," Will laughed out loud, impressed by her brother's quick thinking, "That's brilliant. Mean, but brilliant."

Mac scrunched up her nose, "Mum dragged us to the stage door afterwards where I had to apologize to the actor _in person_ for tugging his tail. He was very cool about it, though, and signed our playbills."

"You know what," he guffawed, "I have absolutely no problem envisioning little Mackenzie McHale's hand darting out into the aisle to grab some dancing tomcat's tail. The poor actor! What were you gonna do with him, though, once you caught him?"

"Why, take him home to play with him, of course," she admitted, "what kind of six year old doesn't want a talking pet?!?"

"So should I be worried about you randomly grabbing male appendages?" He winked at her.

She backed him up against the building's wall and cupped his crotch, "You mean like this?"

"Jesus, Mac, give a guy some warning!" Will gasped for breath after she'd just successfully knocked all air out of his lungs with her little stunt. He glanced nervously around the street, making sure nobody was watching them.

She leaned in an whispered into his ear, "Doesn't seem to me like you're complaining. In fact, it feels like he wants to come out and play." 

Will swallowed hard as his erection grew in her palm. "What you're doing isn't fair," he complained, "you're using witchcraft."

"Witchcraft?" She raked her teeth over her lower lip with an amused smile and felt his cock jump through his jeans.

"Black magic," he nodded firmly, "you've cast an evil spell on my ear."

"Is that your informed, scientific opinion?"

He nodded again.

"Cite your source!"

"Extensive empirical studies documenting the causality between your voice in my ear and the massive hard-on it gives me."

"That why you make a beeline for your bathroom after every broadcast?"

He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Damn, Will, I could've helped you out."

"I appreciate the offer but I think it would've looked suspicious if I'd dragged you into my personal bathroom every evening for a week."

"Good thing George is coming back on Monday, huh?"

"I'm gonna miss having you in my ear," Will confessed.

They gazed into each other's eyes for what felt like eternity, breathing heavily, before they leaned in to kiss passionately. Will slid his arms around her back, pulling her close, while Mac fisted his lapels and rubbed her body against his. They made out for a few moments before a passing car bathed the quiet street in light and brought them back to reality. She slipped her fingers into his hand and led him the last few steps to her door.

"That was quite possibly the best good-night kiss of my life," Will quipped when he finally regained his ability to speak.

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow amused, which turned quickly into a full frown, "You're not coming up?"

"No," he shook his head, "safe for our little spat in the car, this evening has been nothing but perfect. I feel like I should quit while I'm still ahead."

"A rule from your southern gentlemanly style manual?" She teased him.

"Something like that," he chuckled.

"What does it say about abandoning a fair maiden in heat?" She quickly corrected herself, "Need!", but it was too late. Will's laughter could be heard around the block. "Shh, you'll wake the neighbours."

"I should go." He took her other hand in his as well and stepped into her personal space.

"Are you really gonna make me go upstairs all by myself and force me to literally take matters into my own hands?" She pressed her body into his. "Isn't there some rule about Southern Gentlemen always abiding by a Southern Belle's wishes?"

"Mackenzie," Will groaned, "you're making this really hard for me."

"I should hope so," she quipped and ground their hips together, "I'd be offended if you stayed soft."

"Seriously, Mac, I'm trying to do the right thing here. I don't want to screw up again and ruin a nice evening, the whole purpose of tonight was to make up for last time."

"It's been a month, Will," she complained.

"All you have to do is agree to another date," he wiggled his eyebrows, "and this," he thrust his bulge into her crotch, "will be yours for the night."

"Are you blackmailing me with sex?"

"Depends on how desperate you are?"

Mac groaned, "Fine but it's my turn to pick."

"Just don't wait too long," he grinned, "we don't want you to spontaneously combust or anything."

"You think I can't hold out until next weekend for a date?

"I think you can absolutely wait until next weekend for our date," he quipped, "but I don't think you can wait that long to get off."

"Oh really," she straightened up to her full height, "you'd better not run home to wank in the shower because if I can't touch it, you can't either. Those are the rules."

"Fine, but then again, I can hold out longer than you."

"Suit yourself," she stuck her key into the lock and turned it, "but FYI, I would've gone out with you on a second date even if we had had sex tonight. Your loss." She shrugged her shoulders and slipped inside, leaving behind a dumbstruck Will.

The door fell into the lock, jarring the news anchor out of his stupor.

"No! Wait!" He raced up the steps and knocked on the front door but it was already too late. "Fuck it!" He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed frustrated. What the hell had just happened?

* * *

She wasn't playing fair. Not by far. He swore her skirts were getting shorter by the minute. Every time she left the newsroom, another inch was gone by the time she came back. Was she trimming it in the bathroom? He kept stealing glances through the blinds, using every opportunity to admire her legs. God, those legs. They just seemed to go on forever. He couldn't wait until Saturday when he'd have them wrapped around his hips again while he drove into her mercilessly. If he was lucky, she'd cave before then and ask him out for drinks after work.

Mackenzie licked her lips as she slowly leaned back in her chair to appreciate Will's butt in those tight-fitting blue jeans while he waited for the xerox machine to spit out his copies. He must be wearing the tightest pair he owned to tease her because the fabric hugged his best features perfectly. Even Stacy and Wesley did a double take this morning, when he showed up in the bullpen. Her fingers twitched with desire to grab his ass and squeeze his buttocks.

Thankfully George stepped in before she would embarrass herself. The EP asked the news anchor if he had a minute and followed him into his office. He closed the door and drew the blinds, which made Mackenzie frown. They rarely ever did that and usually she was in there with them, discussing a hot lead.

George looked at the news anchor seriously.

"Who died?"

"Andrews suffered a stroke last night."

"Fuck, I was joking," Will straightened up, "did he make it?"

"Yeah, but it's doubtful he'll ever come back and, if, in what capacity."

"We'll send him a get well card and some flowers to his wife." Will jotted down a note for his assistant.

"You and Mac seem to have patched things up while I was gone," George observed casually.

"Yeah, it was nothing really. Just a little skirmish. She'll make a great EP one day, she really owns that control room. Like a duck takes to water. Another year, and she'll give you a run for your money. I mean you've watched our shows last week and didn't feel the overwhelming urge to call us in the middle of a broadcast and rip us a new one. So yeah, I love working with her. She's great. We're good."

Jackson smirked as he listened to the news anchor singing praises of their senior producer. "That's good because there are going to be some changes around here."

Will groaned, "I hate change."

"I know and, trust me, I'll try to make the transition as little disruptive as possible for you."

"You already know who'll be heading the D.C. bureau while Andrews is out of commission?" Will looked at his EP curiously.

"Yeah," Jackson nodded, "an offer has been made."

"But not accepted?"

"I have until the end of the week to decide."

Will's eyebrows shot up. "You mean?"

"Janene and I are still discussing it. Obviously she's worried about me taking the position, since the stress just about killed my predecessor. With the new baby, the extra work is not ideal. But then again, college doesn't come cheap and the raise would go a long way to finance our kids' education because Janene is already talking another one. What is it with women? It's like you flip a switch?!? And then there's our show, of course. I don't wanna have to come down every night, putting you and the new guy into separate corners because you can't work together. So while I'm glad things are okay in the bullpen again, I'm still worried if you can run a stable newsroom."

"Take it, man, don't even think about it." Will encouraged him. "We'll be fine down here. In fact, I may already have the perfect solution for all your problems."

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" Mackenzie looked nervously between the two men who were wearing serious faces. "Something wrong with a story we ran today?"

"No," Jackson shook his head, "sit down."

"I think I rather prefer to stand," she eyed them warily. This was about her dating Will. She just knew it. HR had found out and given Jackson an ultimatum and now she was going to be reassigned to fucking LA or worse.

"You're not getting fired, Mac, so sit the fuck down." Will rolled his eyes.

"Well, since you asked so politely," she remarked pointedly. "What's going on? Why the sad faces?"

Jackson watched their exchange curiously. "It's official. Andrews won't be coming back."

Mac groaned, "So who's the idiot they want to replace him with?"

"You're looking at him." George quipped.

"What?" She stared at him in disbelief.

Jackson nodded, "I'll officially take over the D.C. bureau starting next month."

"That's..." Mac was genuinely happy for her mentor, "huge. Congratulations."

"Thank you," George tapped his fingers on the table. "Obviously this means things around here have to change."

"Do you have your successor in mind already?" She asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Will and I have been discussing it at length."

"You knew?" She accused the news anchor.

"Only for about a week," Will defended himself. "I was not at liberty to say anything to anyone."

"So I'm not gonna like what comes next," Mac groused. She was hurt that she wasn't included in the deliberations about her new supervisor. Sure, she was just the senior producer and didn't have contractual approval like Will did, but clandestine meetings were not the style of their newsroom at all. She would've thought that they'd at least have wanted to hear her opinion first before they extended an offer. What if _she_ didn't get along with the new EP?

The corners of Will's mouth turned into a small smile, "Oh, I think you are."

"Who's taking over from you and when?" She sighed resigned and turned to her present EP.

"Will's been lobbying very hard for you and I trust his instincts."

"What?" She looked dumbfounded between the men.

"Say yes, Mackenzie," Will's eyebrow twitched excitedly. "Just say yes."

"But... I.... why?"

"You've demonstrated that you can do the job well, even under pressure, while I was gone. You're the best senior producer we currently have available in D.C, you've been with the show for almost two years so you know our newsroom inside out. The staff respects you and, most importantly, Will wants you. He thinks you can build on what he and I started and turn it into something great. As the designated bureau chief that's naturally music to my ears."

"I'm also the youngest senior producer here. There are people with more seniority and experience working here." Mac objected. "They're not going to like it when a twenty-seven-year-old hotshot gets promoted over them."

"That's what the frequent meetings in Will's office behind closed doors these last two days were about," Jackson admitted. "Half of them didn't share Will's vision of the show and the other flat out turned me down, claiming he's too difficult to handle and set in his ways."

"Which is not true, by the way," the news anchor objected, "I'm open to change and suggestions."

Mackenzie snorted.

"Anyway, think about it, Mac. You don't have to decide right away. I know our show was only supposed to be a rung on the ladder in your career as a reporter-producer. And while I think you'd be great out in the field, I have absolute confidence in you becoming an even better studio EP. If you want to take this as an opportunity to get back out in front of the camera, though, there'll be no hard feelings. I'll write you a glowing recommendation."

"So will I, by the way," Will interjected, "but I really think you should take this promotion. Together we've got what it takes to make it to primetime, I just know it. Think about it. New York City. The big league. What do you say, Mac? Wanna go to the prom with me?"

She chuckled and locked eyes with Will. "Logistically, how'd this work out?"

"We'd start by giving you more responsibility. You'd take over rundown meetings on Monday and I'd supervise you in the control room but you'd be running the broadcast. I'll also have to spend some time upstairs, getting Andrews' affairs in order and picking up some of the slack." Jackson explained. "But I'd be around, mostly in the background to observe and put out fires until the end of the month. I've got a couple of vacation days left over which I'm planning to take before Labour Day weekend. If you take the promotion, we'll inform the staff on Friday to give them the weekend to get used to the idea. Which is also when we'd file your new paperwork with HR."

At the mention of the human resources department, Mackenzie's eyes darkened.


	8. Dream On

Mac dragged her tired feet through their construction site of a home. She was relieved that the contractor had apparently fixed the wiring when she flicked on the light switch. Neither she nor Will had time today to check in with the workers on their progress. Heading straight to the bedroom, she caught sight of the rumpled sheets they'd left behind this morning. They'd run a little late, since they tried to squeeze in a quickie that neither of them wanted to give up. So they'd showered together and got breakfast to go on their way to the courthouse. Her purse dropped to the floor, as exhaustion spread through her bones. If she just sat down for a minute and closed her eyes to collect herself...

Mackenzie doesn't remember much of the ceremony, except for their exchange of vows. The whole day has kind of become a blur. She never wants to let go of his hand again when she slips his wedding band onto his ring finger. Her palm lingers on the back of his hand, as he says, "I do," and then the whole world stops turning. Suddenly it's just them, as they lose themselves in each other's eyes. In the distance, she can hear the priest's spiel until they're suddenly engulfed by a deafening silence. Will looks at her with that roguish grin and a mischievous glint in his eyes just before he dips his head a little. His hands come around her waist, pulling her nearer. Her fingers slide up the lapels of his suit, as she closes the distance between them even more. Her eyelashes flutter excitedly when his lips brush over hers, soft as a feather at first. She's not going to let him get away with such a chaste kiss and grabs a fistful of suit, holding him in place, so she can lay one on him properly. Her move's accompanied by cheers and applause from their friends - and a wolf whistle that definitely sounds like it's coming from Sloan. Mac breaks into a wide smile, as Will kisses her back for all she's worth. He even slips her a little tongue, which requires all of her self-composure to keep from burying her fingers in his hair and moaning in front of the priest officiating their wedding. 

Her thoughts inevitably wander back to Will in prison. What was he doing right now? Did he miss her as much as she already longed for him? Eleven minutes were a joke. As wonderful as it was to share this happy occasion with their newsroom family, she would've really rather spent their final moments together alone with him. Mac closed her eyes, as she fell back into the sheets. His scent still lingered on his pillow. She wondered how long that would last. Would he be back before his essence wore off?

She sighed heavily as she buried her face in his pillow. The metal bunk beds in prison must be wreaking havoc on his back. She'd have to spring for a full body massage when he got out. Or better yet, she cracked her knuckles, she'd work the kinks out of his muscles herself. She should get up and eat something but she really had no appetite. She felt so drained, physically and emotionally after the day she had, but couldn't rest. Although she had always known there was a chance their legal battle would end like this, she was still not prepared for the outcome. Over and over, she went through everything that happened, wondering if there had been anything they could've done differently. It was Genoa all over again. And poor Will had been so sure he'd defy the odds this time. Too big to jail, my ass!

God, how much she wished she could just call him and talk to him. His voice would calm her down; it could soothe her soul like nothing else and always helped her fall asleep without fail. Dull memories of lonely nights in Afghanistan reared their ugly heads but she shoved them back into the drawer they escaped from immediately. She was not going to spend her wedding night in a morose mood; it was bad enough she couldn't share it with her groom. The realization that she was a married woman now struck her again for the hundredth time that day. Will was her husband! Jesus effin' Christ, she had a fucking husband now! They were supposed to consummate their marriage right now, make love over and over until they set a new record in the annals of nuptial bliss. She rolled over and hugged his pillow tighter, inhaling his scent deeply. The bed felt so big and empty without him already. Oh well, at least they had last night. It would have to tide them over for a few days. Even if it wasn't how she had pictured their wedding night to go, it was still a wonderful memory. Sure, she was a bit clingy but Will had taken her despair in stride, as they whispered promises of forever and worshipped each other's bodies in the dead of night. Images started to flood her mind again, and unlike the shreds of foxholes and desert sand, she welcomed them and let them wash over her like a cleansing rainfall.

* * *

"You can't ever repeat what you just said." Will implored her. 

There it was, Mac noticed shocked. The fear she'd been wanting to see on his face all along. He didn't admit it out loud but it was there now, plain as day. Only it wasn't for himself.

He cupped her cheek and whispered, "Promise me you won't breathe a word to anyone. Not Molly. Not even Rebecca."

"But isn't she our lawyer?" She interjected.

"She's _my_ lawyer," Will countered, "that makes only my conversations with her privileged. In fact, those are the only privileged conversations because spousal privilege doesn't apply to engaged couples."

"And it's a little late to go to City Hall and change the status of our relationship now," she nodded.

"Promise me, Mac."

"I promise," she swore solemnly.

"Good," he breathed a sigh of relief and bumped their heads together. "I love you and I can't see this through to the end if I have to worry about you."

"What," she pulled back, "you don't think I have the chops to defy a court on a contempt charge?"

"Honey, I have no doubt you can make SCOTUS weep," he smirked, "but I'm not nearly as strong as you are. I'd go crazy if I had to worry about you in jail."

"Well, sucks to get a taste of your own medicine, doesn't it?" Mac climbed into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Will." She nuzzled his neck and kissed his soft skin. "I've been shot at and stabbed but I've never ever known fear until today. I don't wanna lose you again."

"Honey, you're not going to lose me," he hugged her tightly. "They're not going to send me to jail and even if they do to make a point, it won't be forever. Remember what Molly said. Ten days tops. We can do that. What's ten days compared to five years? Just do me a favor and let it ring if Brian calls for comment."

Mac chuckled. A year ago she would've never thought it possible that either one of them could crack a joke about Brian and her infidelity. But their love and trust for each other had grown so strong these past few months, that nothing seemed like a threat to their engagement anymore. They knew how miserable they were without each other, and neither of them would risk anything to jeopardize what they had together.

"What if it's more than just a few days? Judith Miller spent 84 days in jail. That's almost three months." She paused, as she counted with her fingers, "That's after our wedding date."

"Judith Miller was not a news anchor. Nor did she turn out to be a very good reporter. This is completely different. They're not going to make me miss my own wedding," Will shook his head. "Considering Cedarman already doesn't want to be the judge who sent a popular news anchor to jail, he's not gonna risk _that_ PR debacle."

"That's still 35 days!" Mackenzie exclaimed. "That's a lot of time for you to think and decide you don't want to marry me anymore when you come out of jail!"

She felt his laughter rumble through his stomach and chest, which made her look up. Their eyes met, and she reached up while he lowered his head for a languid kiss.

"If twenty-six months in the Middle East couldn't kill our love for each other, what makes you think 35 days in jail will?" He smiled amused. "Or should I be worried that you might come to your senses and realize you don't want to be tied down to this neurotic who's past his prime?"

She rose in his lap and folded her arms behind his neck, "That will never ever happen." She kissed him slowly, melting into his embrace.

"I'll take what I can get but the top answer would've been, 'What neurotic past his prime?'" He teased her.

"Shut it, farm boy," Mac deepened their kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. Will framed her ribcage with his palms, letting his thumbs graze the sides of her breasts gently through her sweater. She moaned and ground her pelvis into his crotch. His cock responded to her invitation immediately and hardened. Her fingers trailed down the nape of his neck and slipped past the collar of his jeans shirt. Will pushed himself off the wall and shrugged it off. As she helped him take off his clothes, her lips caressed his neck.

"You're not going to give me another hickey when I have to stand in front of a judge tomorrow, are you?" He eyed her warily.

She giggled and pulled back to gaze into his eyes. "Maybe I should, so your cellmate knows you're taken right away."

"I don't think he'd give a fuck, pardon the pun," Will laughed out loud, "but they'd put me in solitary anyway if they're stupid enough to lock me up."

"So no prison bitch then for you, either," Mac deadpanned. "Jokes aside, that's a huge relief for my peace of mind. I've been having nightmares about all kinds of terrible things that could happen to you. There might be people still around that you put in there!"

"Hence the solitary. They wouldn't risk a former prosecutor getting shanked in prison while serving a contempt charge, least of all when he's now a public figure on TV."

"This is going to sound so dreadfully callous and hypocritical but do you think it will work in your favor that our numbers have gone up this week?"

"It's definitely not going to hurt us," he shrugged his shoulders. "And you're not a hypocrite, honey. I know you'd never exploit our court drama for numbers."

"Pruit might force me to," Mac sighed and nestled her head into the crook where his shoulder met his neck.

"Do you know what day is tomorrow?" He chuckled.

"The day you might go to prison?"

"Nooo," he drawled, "tomorrow's the last day under your old contract."

"You were _never_ going to sack me at the end of any week," Mac chirped, "I had to practically goad you into firing me after Genoa."

"Yes, and I paid a hefty price for your severance package," he deadpanned, lifting her left hand to admire his ring on her finger. He looked up with a grin, "Best money I ever spent all my life."

"We still need to pick out our wedding bands," she rubbed her face against his cheek, as his thumb brushed over her ring finger. "I think we should choose something simple and elegant for our wedding bands, so it won't get too flashy when I wear both."

"So no stones," Will hummed. "Platinum or gold?"

"Yeah, platinum sounds good, definitely matching ones." She held up their hands, their fingers interlocked.

"Should we have them engraved?"

"One ring to bind you?" She teased him.

"Like you need a ring for that," he smirked. "You own me, Mackenzie, fair and square, you've always owned me."

"And don't you ever forget that, Billy." She chirped, as she pulled herself up.

"Hey now, watch it!" He scoffed with mock indignation. 

Mac sighed, "I can't believe that in 35 days you'll be mine forever, to love and to hold, to cherish and ..."

"It's to have and to hold," Will piped up, "Love and hold makes no sense."

"Seriously?" She pulled back, "But I _love_ to hold you..."

"I, Will, take thee, Mackenzie, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness as in health till jail shall us part."

"Show-off," she punched his shoulder softly, "you've been studying behind my back."

"That last part was improvised," he grinned at her sweetly. "Don't worry you'll have a lot of time to practice your vows while I'm in prison."

"And I hope you'll use all that extra time on your hands in jail to come up with the three missing groomsmen. My brother and yours only bring us up to six total and they still need to be fitted for tuxedos."

Will groaned, "Walked right into that one, didn't I? Can't we just elope after court tomorrow?"

"Sure," Mackenzie's tone was dripping sarcasm, "if you pick up the phone right now and explain to my parents why you just cancelled their baby daughter's wedding to the man of her dreams, which they've been anticipating for six long years and are looking forward to very much. Not to mention how thrilled my father will be, seeing his money well spent, considering he's paying half of it, when he learns we ran off to Vegas to get married in a tacky chapel by a singing Elvis."

"Maybe I'll just ask Scott or Reese or Neal if he comes back." He'd barely uttered those words, when the lights went out and plunged their apartment into complete darkness.

"Do you think this was a good sign or a bad omen?" She wisecracked.

" _I think_ we should have the electrician check the wires again."

"Really?" Mackenzie replied sarcastically, as she untangled herself from her fiancé, "What tipped you off?" She crawled across the floor to the box of candles they kept around for these occasions. Will reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone and turned on its flashlight app. He groaned, as he struggled to get up and walked to the ladder where he'd draped his jacket. He reached inside for his zippo.

"We're getting too good at this," Mac commented, as Will came up behind her to light up two pillar candles. "Let's just turn in for the night." She suggested when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the bare skin on her shoulder that peeked out of her sweater.

"Mm-hm, lead the way, I'll follow with the rest."

Mac balanced a burning candle in each hand, carefully avoiding wax dripping all over the floor, while Will traipsed behind her with an armful of candles. They made their way slowly and carefully past the obstacle course of ladders, scaffolding and buckets into the master bedroom, where she set one candle down next to their makeshift bed and then carried the other one into the bathroom. It illuminated the room just enough to make out shapes of objects so they wouldn't accidentally pee into the sink or brush their teeth over the toilet in the dark. They kept a glass on a plate, in which she placed the second candle, for this very purpose to make sure they didn't burn down their new apartment over night.

When she returned from the bathroom, Will was lighting the last of the candles in the circle he'd formed around their bed.

"Mmm, Mr. Romantic," she teased him, "trying to get me in the mood?" She crossed the room with a few quick strides while he rose with a groan.

He quirked an eyebrow and pointed at her black teddy, "Look who's talking, at least I'm still wearing my pants."

She cupped his crotch, "Yes, why _are_ you still wearing them?" Her fingers searched for the zipper and pulled it down.

He caught her hand and looked at her with a question in his eyes. She gave a slight shake of her head and Will sighed. "It doesn't have to mean anything, honey, could just be stress." He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head underneath his chin.

"I know," she mumbled into his chest, while he rocked them gently, "the timing really, really sucks." 

"We'll get there, Mac," he pulled back.

"We may be back to square one," she looked up ruefully.

"Then we'll talk to Catherine about another round of treatment." He brushed her bangs back and framed her face with his fingers. "And since she also told us the best way to get pregnant is to have sex regularly every two to five days throughout the _whole_ month, I'm going to take my beautiful fiancée to bed now where I'll make sweet, sweet love to her."

He kissed her hungrily and let his hands glide down to her breasts. 

"Then show me, Billy," she rasped into his ear, as his lips trailed to her neck, "show me how much you love me." She took his hand and led them to their makeshift bed. He already slipped out of his shoes and toed off his socks while pulling his shirt over his head. Mac watched him amused, as his impatience got the better of him. "On the off chance that this might be our last night together for a while," she climbed onto the mattress and settled against the pillows, "I want you to ravish me."

Will looked up at her with a wolfish grin, pushing his jeans down over his buttocks. He stumbled slightly, trying to stand on one leg while pulling off his boxers along with his pants on the other one.

"Careful!" Mac snorted, "If at all possible, I'd like to avoid having to explain to the E.R. nurse how you got first-degree burns on your ass tonight."

He laughed out loud and carefully sidestepped the candles, before he climbed on top of the bed. She licked her lips, taking in his naked body, which never failed its effects on her, even though she knew every mole and freckle on it by heart now.

"You look like a cat ready to pounce," Will observed amused.

"Just shut up and kiss me," she reached out for him.

"Yes, ma'am," he went into her arms. Her thighs fell apart, making room for his bad knee, as his he leaned down to kiss her. Mackenzie's lips parted on a happy sigh and Will slipped his tongue past, letting it sweep around inside. She didn't remain inactive for long, and soon her tongue was swirling around his, enticing him to play together. They started out with slow and deep ones at first, savoring each other's taste, but it grew heated pretty quickly.

One of them moaned but it was impossible to tell who. Their lips were fused together and their bodies twined around each other. More moans filled the air, this time coming from both of them and increasing in volume. The empty apartment amplified the sounds but tonight they didn't care if the neighbors could hear them. They might as well get used to the fact that the new tenants were newlyweds with an appropriately healthy sex drive. Their hips started moving together as one, as they deepened their kisses. His erection poked her pussy but was barred from entry by her teddy. The silk felt so good on his sensitive skin, whenever it rubbed over his shaft, his cock started to leak from arousal.

Mac turned her face a little, panting for air, so Will's lips nuzzled her throat. He kissed the creamy white skin on her shoulder, as she buried her fingers in his hair. She moaned into his ear, knowing how much it drove him crazy. As his mouth wandered along her collarbone to the other side, he lowered the black straps from her teddy. Mac tugged his head, urging him to go lower and caress her breasts. She gasped out loud when his mouth closed around a nipple and suckled gently.

"Oh!" She cradled his head while he twirled his tongue around her hard pebble. Will licked the valley between her mounds and then played with the other stiff bud, drawing out more sighs and moans from her. He just loved how sensitive Mackenzie's breasts have always been to his touch. His hands reached up to pull her teddy further down. 

Will sent Mac a fiery glance, before he licked the underside of her breasts. Every inch of skin he revealed, he covered with little kisses. He took special care with the scarred tissue around her stab wound. It used to bother him the first few times they had sex after their engagement, serving as a constant reminder that he had failed her on every level. Had not only broken his promise to keep her always safe but practically sent her running into her own peril. But now his lips just brushed along the marks of her scar gently, each tender caress a renewal of his vows that any future knife or bullet would have to go through him first, before it could even so much as graze her perfect skin.

Her abdominal muscles flexed erratically, sending ripples of anticipation across her body. Will grinned as he moved lower and lower, hooking his fingers into the silky material of her teddy around her hips. They twitched and her hands were back in his hair. Twisting strands of hair around her fingers, she tried to guide him to where she wanted him most but Will had a mind of his own. Swiftly he pulled her teddy down her long and slender legs. After he freed them, he took one calf and let his hand glide over her smooth skin. He was a leg man after all. Will pressed his lips to her ankle and licked his way up to her knee. There he switched to kisses on her inner thigh when she bent her leg behind his head.

Finally he was where he belonged. Mackenzie cried out when his tongue parted her folds and brushed over her sensitive clit. His hands slipped under her buttocks, tilting her hips to gain a better angle.

"Oh my God, Will!" She threw her head back and fisted the sheets.

"Look at me, Mac," his voice was rough when he glanced up, "or I'll stop."

"Feels so good," she mumbled, as her body continued to writhe.

"I know," he whispered and gave her pussy a tentative lick, "but I want to look into your eyes, when I make you come."

Mackenzie sighed and opened her eyes, as his tongue brushed over her clit again.

"Don't make me come yet," she shook her head slightly, "I want us to come together with you inside me."

"I know," his eyes twinkled with mischief, "and I promise I'll deliver in due time."

"No, Billy, don't." She reached down, when she realized what his plans were. She couldn't handle multiple orgasms tonight. It was his favorite new thing ever since he found out she was capable of coming a few times in a row a few months ago. "Stop, honey."

He was licking her pussy with abandon now, lapping up all her juices. "Don't. Stop. Don't," he heard her whimpers turn into begging, "stop, don't stop, oh my God! Wiiiill! Don't stop! Feels so good." Her speech started to slur, and he grinned smugly, as he feasted on her nectar. Their eyes connected, when he replaced his tongue with a finger in her pussy.

"Oh fuck!" She groaned as he added another one. She begged him breathlessly, "Use your tongue, honey."

Will flicked his tongue across her clit. She caved completely to the pleasure provided by his expert ministrations. He played her body like a fine instrument, knowing how to touch, where to caress, when to tease. "Lick me, Billy." 

Again, he obeyed her command, as he crooked his fingers and brushed over her g-spot. His free hand roamed across her abdomen, reaching higher, until his fingertips brushed the underside of her breasts. She grabbed his hand and planted it firmly on her left mound, which he began to grope roughly instantly. She squeezed her other breast, pinching and tweaking her nipple, which made her pussy tingle even more.

"Oh shit, Will, you're gonna make me come," Mac cried out and trapped his head between her closed legs. "Oh my God, ohmygod, ohmygod, I'm coming."

She arched her back, when she reached her climax. Will tried to hold her in place, as her hips bucked wildly.

She was a sight to behold, and he couldn't wait any second longer to be inside her. With one smooth stroke, he slid into her pussy, until his shaft was buried completely inside. She moaned his name, as he whispered hers. Once more, they were convinced they'd been put on this earth to love one another because her pussy still fit around his cock like a velvet glove. She felt even tighter, since her walls continued to quiver around him in the aftermath her first orgasm.

She nestled her cheek into his palm, as they kissed passionately. Tongues darted out playfully and teased each other with their tips. His hand slid backwards to cup her neck, as he deepened the kiss. She stroked his back, running her fingertips over each vertebra on his spine.

"Oh, Mackenzie," he mumbled against her lips, "you taste so fine." She loved the lilt in his voice when he used her name. Nobody else said it the way he did. It was like music to her ears, especially when they were intimate and he chanted it like a mantra just before he came. "My sweet, sweet Mackenzie." 

"Move, Billy," she encouraged him. He pulled out slowly. "Make love to me, honey."

"Fuck, Mackenzie," he growled as they both looked down to see her pussy sheathing his cock completely. She felt him stretch her slowly, as his thick shaft spread her folds apart. He twitched inside her, when he sunk his length into her almost all the way to the base of his cock. He surprised her with a sudden roll of his hips and rubbed the last few inches of his erection over her clit.

"Ohhh," Mac moaned and looked up into his eyes. She cupped his face and pulled his head down for a kiss. Tonight she craved the intimacy that the missionary position allowed. She wanted to commit every little detail of their love-making to memory. The taste of his kisses, the love shining in his eyes, his hands caressing her breasts, his cock spewing inside her. She loved the gentle thrust of his hips, which made her gasp.

He rose above her; the muscles on his strong arms flexing, as they framed her body. His strokes became harder and deeper, when he sought his release. She moved her hands over her head, grabbing the edge of the mattress for purchase. Mac bit her lip and arched her body, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her pussy gripped his cock tighter again, making him release a guttural groan, as a wave of pleasure spread from her core all over her body. 

"Take me, Billy, take me," she mumbled deliriously, "oh yes, take me, honey, I'm yours." She pushed her breasts up, enticing Will to lower his head and suckle on each nipple. The position was hell on his back, though, and he had to give up this treat reluctantly - but not before he made her come again. The contractions in her pussy started to subside a little but Will kept rocking into her all the same. He was determined to draw out yet another climax from her and this time they would fall off the cliff together.

Everything felt more sensitive because he didn't stop moving, when she came the second time. Her clit continued to throb, as her spasms massaged his slick shaft inside her. She felt completely drained, ready to let him pound her, until he released his seed into her womb.

Will let his hands glide up the mattress and fell on his elbows. He moved his lips to her ear and whispered, "I'm almost there, next time take me with you." He brushed her sweat drenched bangs out of her face and kissed her temples. "Come with me, honey."

He angled his hips to stroke over her g-spot, which caused her desire to pool in her core once more. Tiny tingles that turned into giant waves of pleasure engulfed her body. Mac grabbed his ass and guided his movements. He drove into her deeper and deeper, faster and faster, harder and harder. His low groans and her breathless gasps accompanied his desperate strokes.

"Close, so close, baby," he grunted.

"Let go, Billy," she whispered as their eyes locked. She felt him surge inside her, twitching and swelling until he burst.

"Oh fuck," his eye lids fluttered as his body shuddered, "oh Mackenzie, Mackenzie, Mackenzie. Ohhh!" The words died on his lips, when he exploded inside of her. His whole body tensed, as he thrust into her one final time, holding himself as deeply inside her as possible. His elbows trembled from exertion, before he lowered his body to kiss his fiancée.

They came together, feeding off each other's orgasms. The harder Will pumped into her pussy, the tighter it convulsed around him. Every spurt of semen into her womb triggered another series of contractions that milked his seed from his balls. Their mouths devoured each other, somewhat muffling their cries of passion. Their peaks seemed to go on forever, as he filled her with his sperm.

Gradually, their frenzied motions died down, as they continued to share intimate kisses. Smiling at each other, their bodies rocked together slowly and gently, so as to draw out the final seconds of their union. Mac ran her fingers back through his hair, her lips followed their trail until they reached his ear.

"I love you, Billy," she whispered and felt him nuzzle her throat in response.

"I love you, too," he pressed his nose and lips into her soft skin. She twirled a few strands of hair around her fingers in the nape of his neck. Come started to leak out when he finished filling her. The spasms in her pussy drained his balls completely, until the last drop was spent, and Will tried to roll off her. Mac clamped her thighs together to hold him in place.

"Don't," she whispered and brushed her head along his temples, "stay, please."

"Okay," he whispered back and rubbed their foreheads together. Sensing her fragile state, he stayed put, bearing the slow throbbing pain in his knee and elbow, if it meant giving her some sense of security.

"I love you so much," she pressed a desperate kiss onto his mouth, "You have no idea how much I lo..." Her voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh, Mac, no," Will ran his hand over her cheek, "don't cry, honey, don't cry."

"I love you so much, I don't know what I'd do without you," she hiccuped.

"Shh," he spoke calmly, "it's gonna be alright. I promise you, Mackenzie, I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't lose you again, Will." Another sob tore through her body.

"I'll never let you go again," he reassured her with a sloppy kiss.

"I don't care how corny and weak it sounds but I need you, Will. I love you and I  _need_ you." She buried her face in his neck.

He smiled, "That's not corny at all. If anything, that's the greatest compliment you can give me. I love that you need me. That I can give you something no one else in this world can." He tucked her head under his chin. "We'll be fine, honey. You'll see. In a few weeks, we'll be on our honeymoon and leave all this behind us. Everything's going to work out. I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"How can you be so sure?" She sniffled. "I want to believe you, Will, I so desperately want to believe you, but I'm so fucking scared something will happen to you."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, withdrawing slowly, "my elbow and knee are gonna give out any second and I don't want to crush my bride a few months shy of our wedding."

"I don't care," she whimpered petulantly and only let go of him reluctantly.

"Well, you will when _TMI!_ runs the headline 'McHale-McAvoy Wedding Cancelled: News Anchor Kills EP in Freak Sex Accident!!!!' with not three but four exclamation points."

"There are worse ways to go,"  she scoffed.

Will beamed at her when she laughed a little. "Of that I'm sure, but maybe we can choose one for you that doesn't involve me giving your parents awkward explanations about our sex life." 

He rolled on his side and pulled her with him so he could spoon her. His nose pressed into her cheekbone as he pressed a soft kiss into the sensitive skin under her ear. "I love you, Mackenzie."

"Hold me, honey," she begged him. His arms tightened his hold around her waist when she snuggled back against the solid expanse of his chest with a heavy sigh. Fresh tears spilled over her eyelashes. She exhaled slowly, trying to control her breathing. She didn't want him to worry about her breakdown, which was stupid because he could feel her body shake a little.

""I've got you, honey," he hummed and settled his hand on her stomach. Mac looked down at his fingers already splayed protectively over her abdomen. "Let's go out of town for the weekend. Get away from this mess for a while. All the stress is toxic for you. It's Genoa all over again. I don't want to risk the progress we've made with the hormone treatment over a stupid story we're no longer allowed to run anyway."

"People fucking died, Billy," Mac protested, "that's not stupid, that's really tragic."

Will sighed and rolled on his back, letting go of her. "Of course it is."

She felt the mattress shift under his weight and turned around worried she'd pissed him off with her outburst. However, she noticed relieved he'd simply got out of bed to blow out the candles.

"I'm not indifferent to what happened in Kundu," he glanced at her, before he moved on to the next one, "but I care more about my family's welfare." The candlelight in the room got dimmer with every flame  he extinguished. "Neal's hiding in Venezuela, Charlie's a fuckin' bottle of Bourbon away from needing a liver transplant, and now your cycle's all out of whack again!"

"Charlie's liver's made of steel," Mac quipped.

"Maybe you can call your doctor's office tomorrow to get us an appointment next week?"

"Give me something to occupy myself during your hearing?" She saw right through him.

"Yeah." There was no point denying, so he just shrugged his shoulders casually. "Is it possible we just missed the day you ovulated this month?"

"Are you asking me if I'm pregnant?"

Will frowned. If she had ovulated without them realizing, it would mean she was now about a week late. "I guess I am? Should I go out to buy a pregnancy test?"

"Will, I used up two OPK packs in April before I gave up testing."

"I'd understand if you skipped a day when things got a little crazy with Boston."

"I didn't. Nothing, nada, zero, zilch, niente, _naught_ , _nil_." Her voice rose at the end, conveying her frustrations. "I'm pretty sure I didn't ovulate this month."

"Is there any way to find out if the hormone treatment failed or if stress simply interfered?" 

"Not for a couple of periods at least, I don't think so but I'll ask Catherine. I guess we just have to wait until my next period and the ones after to see if my cycle's normal now. Anyway, the progesterone I was on until last month doesn't actually affect ovulation, it just induces menstruation when you stop taking it after a few days."

"Kinda like hitting the reset button on a shot clock?" He asked her, using a sports analogy trying to understand, as he crawled back into bed. The candlelight was replaced by the soft glow of the moon whose light bathed their bedroom now.

"Yeah," she smirked, lifting the sheets for him. "If the first round of progesterone failed, Catherine said we'd give it another try for six months this time."

"But we'd have to wait until your next period for you to start taking it again or we'll mess with your natural cycle completely and make things only worse." Will nodded.

"Right," Mac sighed and they cuddled together. She felt his erection poke her thigh. 

"A moment ago I thought you looked your most beautiful in the candlelight," Will whispered, "but now that I'm seeing you in the moonlight, I have to reconsider."

"Are you still hard," she purred into his ear, "or getting hard again?"

"Does it really matter?" 

"'s long as you keep using it for makin' whoopee..." She rolled them over and straddled him.

"God, I love you," he grinned up at her, as she leaned down to kiss him passionately.

* * *

"I've got a text from you," Rebecca sounded amused when she woke up Mackenzie from a lonely night of restless sleep, "from 2am last night, asking about conjugal visits."

Mac cringed and mumbled, "Must've been sleep walking again."

"Uh-huh." 

"So?"

"Not allowed, sorry, " Will's lawyer informed her client's new wife. "However, I promised Will I'd check in on him today, so if you want to tag along, I might be able to finagle something a little more personal in the lawyer conference room."

"Of course, I want to come!" Mac blurted out.

"Good, I'll pick you up in an hour, we'll discuss visiting procedures over brunch and then head over to MCC."

Mackenzie breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you. I was going to ask you about that. Is there anything I should know?"

"Well, there's the possibility that Will might not have a visitors list yet. Normally a spouse would be put automatically on the list, but since you got married on the spur of a moment yesterday, you might not even be listed in his pre-security screening because they haven't run a background check on you yet."

"Are you saying I might not be allowed to see him?"

"That's why I want you to come along with me. I promise I'll get you in."

"Thank you! I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You and Will have kind of grown on me over the last year," Rebecca quipped. "Listen, you can't bring any contraband into the facility, which essentially is everything that hasn't been approved prior by the warden."

"So I shouldn't take anything at all with me," Mac concluded, "except the clothes I'm wearing."

"You should be able to bring Will some personal items, like toiletries and reading material for the weekend, since he just got in."

"All our books are still packed up," Mackenzie glanced into the direction of what would be their office one day, where they'd stacked up most of their moving boxes, "but I'll get his toothbrush and toothpaste, soap and shampoo, razor and shaving cream, brush and deodorant. What about his medication?"

"You might want to hold the razor and the drugs. He'll get the latter from the infirmary if he listed them on his in-take form. Not sure if they'll let him take the former into SHU because of security concerns. While Will's in solitary for his own safety, they might be picky out of principle. He can live with a little scruff over the weekend, if they don't provide him with a pre-approved one."

"What if Lasenthal plays hardball and keeps him inside for the full ten days as Molly suggested."

"Then you'll send Will some money for the commissary on Monday so he can buy one there."

"Okay, anything else?"

"Don't forget your photo ID," Rebecca reminded her, "and bring a copy of your marriage certificate just in case."

"Okay," Mac prepared to end the call so she could get ready and dressed for the day, "I'll see you in an hour. Bye."

"Bye."

After she showered and got dressed, Mackenzie gathered Will's stuff in a small bag. Suddenly she remembered that she'd seen two magazines Will subscribed to in his mail from yesterday. That should tide him over for the weekend. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the stack of envelopes and promptly dropped it, scattering all of its contents over the hardwood floor. Great. Mac sighed. If that wasn't a fitting start for the worst day of her life so far. As she collected the pamphlets and envelopes, she automatically sorted out the bills from the ads and business from personal correspondence. 

A small envelope with clumsy penmanship addressed to his ACN office caught her attention. She picked it up and found it still sealed, which was unusual because Jenna was supposed to screen all of Will's fan mail. During her first year at ACN, when Will received more threats than usual, security had forced Charlie to implement the policy that Will's assistants checked all of his correspondence for suspicious looking envelopes or packages and report them immediately. Mac glanced at the childish handwriting. Her heart nearly stopped when she read the sender's name. Dijon. She hadn't heard that name in years. And it wasn't a common name in the first place. That couldn't be a co-incidence. It had to be him. How old would the boy be now? Seven, eight years? Will would definitely want to read the letter, so she put it in the bag with his other belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a slight departure from the usual narrative structure but I didn't want to confuse readers with too many flashbacks from different chronologies. However, I just couldn't see Mac returning to their apartment without those thoughts going through her mind. We'll go back to our regular programming next chapter.


	9. Rock You Like a Hurricane

"Rebecca Halliday, here to see Will McAvoy, inmate number 02326. He was brought into protective SHU late yesterday. I'm his lawyer, and this is his wife, Mackenzie McHale," she paused and turned to the EP, "or is it McAvoy now? McHale-McAvoy? McAvoy-McHale? Good Lord, you sound like something I'd order off a McDonald's drive-in menu."

"McAvoy," Mac told the guard, "It's Mackenzie McAvoy."

"And another one bites the dust," the lawyer observed dryly.

"Was that a sarcastic, but not-so-subtle social commentary on my betrayal of feminist ideas?" Mac cocked her head amused and Rebecca shrugged her shoulders with a mischievous grin.

"If you have to know, the 'Mc' part is mine."

"Excuse me?" The lawyer traded frowns with the guard who watched the exchange somewhat entertained.

"Will took my "Mc" and I took his "Avoy" when we got married," Mackenzie explained.

Rebecca looked at the news producer long and hard, before she shook her head dismissively. "You're in love; you don't have to make sense."

"What? It makes perfect sense! We merged McAvoy and McHale into a hybrid name instead of saddling us both and our children with an impossibly long, Irish hyphenated name."

"Will already had a "Mc" in his name." Rebecca pointed out gently.

"I know, which is why it works out so perfectly."

"Yeah, that's definitely the last time we order mimosas with brunch," the attorney muttered.

"I'm not drunk," Mackenzie rolled her eyes.

"The way I see it, he gets off scot-free, while _you_ have to go through the legal hassle of changing your name with HR, social security, not to mention the long lines at the DMV, credit card companies, banks, medical bills, magazine subscriptions, frequent flyer accounts..."

Mackenzie's face fell a little at the reminder of all the work involved until she recalled how much exponentially more time, energy and money it would take to rebrand her flagship show to _News Night with Will McHale_.

"Why not take his 'Mc' and your 'Hale'?" The lawyer challenged the EP.

"Because it's called _News Night with Will McAvoy_."

"She has a point, counselor," the front lobby officer interjected.

"Dozens of correctional officers in this building and we have to catch the one who likes keeping score." Rebecca looked at the guard tersely, "Don't you have someone to call in SHU to have my client escorted to the lawyer conference room?" 

"Yes, ma'am," he picked up the phone to request inmate 02326 and handed the women a clipboard each, "you know the drill, counselor?"

The lawyer nodded. The visitor forms were pretty much self-explanatory anyway. Mac spelled her new married name almost reverently in block letters for the first time. What a pity this momentous occasion was wasted on a prison visitor sheet.

"I just really liked Mackenzie McHale," Rebecca muttered, "it had a nice ring to it."

"I know," Mac smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not dropping it entirely, I'll still go by my old name at work. Though it would be fun to mess with Pruit, sending Will upstairs every time he calls me to his office." She batted her eyelashes innocently, "Oh, you meant the other McAvoy? My bad." Under 'relationship to inmate', she wrote wife - with a flourish that reflected her giddiness over tying the knot with Will. She completed the rest of the fields and signed it quickly.

"Oh please, pretty please, with cherries on the top!" The attorney grinned.

"Get my husband out first, and then we'll see about screwing with Pruit behind Charlie's back," Mac chuckled, then cursed, "Dammit!"

"What?" Rebecca peered over her shoulder.

"I signed with my old name," Mackenzie sighed.

"That was somewhat predictable," Rebecca smirked. She returned her clipboard to the correctional officer and asked for a new sheet for Mac.

"Let me guess, newlyweds?" He nodded to Mackenzie with a shit-eating grin. "Happened to my wife for weeks after we got married."

"Not even 24 hours." The bride blushed.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I'm going to need your ID and see your marriage certificate."

Mac reached into her purse for her driver's license, "They told us we'd receive it in the mail sometime next week."

"I thought as much," the guard smiled. "Since today's Saturday, your name change can't possibly be in the system yet. Just add your maiden name to the top field so it matches your signature and leave it at that. This way it also corresponds with your official ID."

"Thank you," Mackenzie glanced at the guy's name tag, "Officer Jones."

"You're welcome, Mrs. McAvoy. Now, please, follow your friend through the metal detectors and my colleague will give you your visitor's pass and stamp of the day." He pointed to the other end of the room. "Another colleague should be down shortly to escort you to the elevators and take you up to the third floor."

Mackenzie thanked him again and caught up with Rebecca. She played nervously with the rings on her fingers as the guard scanned her bag. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but they won't allow a straight razor in SHU," the guard apologized as he opened the bag and removed the item. He had a hunch when he felt the worn leather pouch with fine stitching in his palm, "Would you like me to hold on to it?"

"Yes, please, it's a family heirloom," Mac thanked the guard. Rebecca had warned her but she still wanted to try, since she knew how much his grandfather's old razor meant to Will.

"Okay, I'll take good care of it," the guard smiled, "you can come pick it up here before you leave."

"Thank you." Her eyes followed Will's most prized possession in the world as the officer tagged it and wrote down her visitor's badge number. Suddenly she was back in that tiny, cramped hotel bathroom in New Orleans, watching Will shave and listening to him telling stories about his grandfather. Everything his father hadn't been for him, his grandfather was until he passed away when Will was still young. And while it would be months before he plucked up the courage to open up to her about his family, that morning he had doled out the first of many puzzle pieces: The story about a young nineteen-year-old Nebraska farm boy who left home to head to New York City with nothing but a scholarship to Columbia Law School and his grandfather's straight razor in his pocket.

* * *

"Ugh," Paul recoiled and pulled his T-shirt over his nose. The stench in the Big Easy was becoming quickly unbearable in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.

"That's only going to get worse," Will reminded them as he offered everyone a little tin of tiger balm. "Put this under your nose. A little trick I learned as a prosecutor when I caught a fresh scene with a floater."

"Right, that brown soup out there is toxic so you'll do wise to avoid any contact with it," Mac pointed out. "We don't know what exactly it contains but I can promise you that the gasoline, household chemicals and garbage in it will be some of the nicer things you'll encounter today." Upon Wesley and Stacy's blank faces, Mac elaborated, "We're going to see dead bodies today. You have to be prepared for that."

"But that's going to be the easy part," Will warned them, "We're going to see desperate people, stuck on their rooftops and balconies, begging us to take 'em out of their misery. We can't do that," the news anchor explained as he got into the boat they'd procured for the day to inspect the flooded zones, "as counter-intuitive as that may sound, we can't get involved. We're here to observe and report."

"We're going to let them die?" Paul got into his boss's face.

"We can't rescue everyone," Mackenzie stepped in, "that's why they're called rescue workers and we're journalists. Let's not confuse our jobs. If we keep going back to rescue people, we'll never get any work done and Jackson will pull us out. I know this sounds harsh but it's just the way it is."

"Our boat holds up to eight people," Paul interjected, "there's only five of us. That means we can take another three people on board."

"Sure," Mackenzie put her hand on her hips, "and I'll let you explain to the crying mother who's holding out her infant for us to take why we can't let a _fourth_ one board."

Paul's eyes widened as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. "Fuck!" Trying to decide who could and couldn't come aboard their boat would be tantamount to playing God. First come, first serve? Women and children first? What about the sick and the elderly? They couldn't kick anyone off their boat if they encountered someone in even more dire need. Will was right. They couldn't get involved at all if they wanted to keep their sanity.

"Yeah, fuck indeed. And that's not even taking the weight of our equipment into account," Mac looked at him intently, "If you're not up for it, Paul, turn around. There's no shame in admitting you're not equipped to handle a crisis like this. What's happening here is beyond fucked up, that goes for you two, too." She looked at Wesley and Stacy whose faces had visibly paled over the past few minutes.

"No, I'm fine," Paul reassured her.

The other two looked at each other, then at Will and Mac and chorused, "We're in."

"Okay, hop in," Will held out his hand for Stacy to come onboard. Paul jumped in after her, and Wes helped him load their equipment.

"Capt'n?" Paul grinned at Mac and saluted his new boss before he offered her a helping hand.

"Shut it," Mac chuckled.

"I'm the skipper," Will stepped in and draped his arm carefully around her waist, "you can be my first mate." He winked at her as he personally oversaw her safe embarkment.

"Aye, aye, sir." Mackenzie gave him a mock salute.

Stacy nudged Wesley's shoulder and nodded at the news anchor hovering around their new EP. Wes quirked an eyebrow, wearing a shit-eating grin.

"What?" Paul looked at them confused.

"Nothing," the youngsters chorused.

"Your little shtick talking simultaneously is getting old really fast," Paul muttered annoyed and sat down with their equipment. Shaking his head, he started unpacking their camera to get some B-roll.

* * *

"What's this?" The guard manning the lawyer conference rooms station on the third floor rose behind his desk and pointed at Mackenzie's bag.

"Personal care products for my client," Rebecca explained for Mac. "Mrs. McAvoy was kind enough to carry them for me."

"The previous checkpoints have already cleared it twice," Mackenzie supplied helpfully.

"Your husband's Will McAvoy?" The guard raised an eyebrow surprised and checked her subtly out. "Damn, some fellas have all the luck in the world."

Mac opened her mouth, frantically searching for an appropriate comeback to put the guy in his place, "Seeing as you're my husband's prison guard, I'm gonna challenge you on your definition of luck."

"Ok," the officer shrugged his shoulders, "but I still have to search your bag and record what you bring inside."

"Of course," Mac relinquished it without complaint. She watched the man pull out item after item, noting every single article on her visitor form. He frowned when he thumbed through the magazines and found a sealed envelope tucked in between the pages. 

"Are you trying to smuggle contraband into this facility, Mrs. McAvoy?"

"What?" Mackenzie looked at him dumbfounded. He held the magazine open for her to see the sealed envelope. "It's a fan letter. From a little boy. He'll hardly share the name of his source with a kid." 

"All mail has to go through official correspondence channels." He recited by heart.

"Something wrong?" Rebecca, who'd stepped aside to sort her legal papers after her search, rejoined the conversation. 

"Scooby Doo here thinks Will's procuring cigarettes from a grade schooler with the help of USPS."

"If I were you, I'd curb your sarcasm until you get to know the guards better," Rebecca glanced at the correctional officer who was still holding the envelope in question in his hands. "Suppose you opened the letter and skimmed its contents for objectionable material..." Will's lawyer quirked an eyebrow, "Do you think you could make an exception today?"

"I suppose so," the guard sighed and looked between the two women, "but only because I like your husband's show, and I know he's only in the slammer because he won't reveal his source. I like a man with principles."

"Thank you," Mac beamed at him.

The officer opened the envelope and unfolded the sheets of paper enough to scan the first paragraph. His eyes widened in shock when he realized the deeply personal nature of the letter. He quickly stashed it back into the envelope and returned it to Mackenzie. 

"Sorry, ma'm, you're good to go," he cast his eyes down embarrassed.

Rebecca exchanged a curious glance with the producer, "What's in that letter?"

"I couldn't really know," Mac grinned, "since it was sealed until a moment ago." But she had a pretty good idea what the little boy from New Orleans might have written.

* * *

Wesley peered over the edge of the boat nervously. "I think I just saw something swim under our boat. Do they have crocodiles here?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Mackenzie brushed him off.

"I don't know, why don't you stick your hand in and we find out?" Stacy stuck out her tongue.

"Kids, please," Will ran interference between the quarreling young colleagues, "we've been over this. Nobody's sticking anything anywhere."

"No, Wes is right, except he means gators because crocs only live in Australia, but we should be careful," Paul, a native Floridian, pointed out. "Gators love brackish and freshwater. Plus, I don't even want to know what kind of shit Katrina brought in from the sea."

"Okay, you've just been officially promoted to gator watch," Mac patted the reporter on his back.

"Watch out!" Stacy alerted Will to a broken gas line.

The newscaster thanked her and made sure to steer clear of the flames licking the surface of the water. Suddenly a loud hissing noise startled them from the other side. They all flinched before they turned around and saw sparks flying through the air where a cut power line dipped into the water ahead of them.

Paul looked at his bosses."Why again are we out in this deathtrap?" 

"To show the American people their tax dollars at work," Mac chirped, "or not."

"Next time you gather everyone in the newsroom to ask who's comfortable handling A/V equipment in the field and doesn't have a child or sick parent to care for, I'm playing possum," Paul grumbled.

This boat trip was quickly deteriorating and it was time Mackenzie reminded everyone of their jobs. They were nearing the dry land zone surrounding the Superdome and Convention Center. "Is everyone wearing their credentials?" 

"Yep," Paul, Wes and Stacy held up their lanyards.

"Good," Mac switched back into work mode. "Jackson wants inside scoop from the Superdome."

"Press isn't allowed in there," Will reminded her.

"And you think that's gonna stop me?" She put her hand on her hip, looking at him amused.

"Just sayin'."

"Anyway," Mac rolled her eyes, "I've received marching orders for four segments as part of CNN's round-the-clock coverage of Katrina. First up is days," she checked her watch, "in two hours. They want Will reporting live from outside the Superdome, so let's head there first to get some good footage and set up our equipment. Wesley and Stacy can already head over to the convention center, while the rest of us are busy with the live feed. That's where the rescue teams are dropping off stranded people. Try get us an interview or two with refugees."

"Anything specific?" Stacy asked.

"Well, if you're asking me like that, a nice homeless family of four would be perfect." Mac shot back.

"I can't tell if that was sarcastic," Stacy trailed off.

"Don't just get me sob stories," Mackenzie told the AP, "get me something I can use on air. They'll all have heartbreaking stories, your job is to learn which ones have the kind of gravitas that touches viewers beyond just feeling sorry for them."

"I don't understand." Wesley shook his head.

"Talk and listen," Will jumped in. "Don't worry, you'll get a feeling soon."

"Okay," the youngster looked at the more experienced journalists skeptically.

"You'll learn by watching Will, Mac and me. Look at this like broadcasting boot camp," Paul reassured them.

"We'll discuss this more when we'll join you at the convention center," Mackenzie nodded. "After we tape our segment on the convention center, we head back to the boat to check out the levees. We've got another live segment for Wolf's show around our usual airtime, so it would be great to get an interview with someone from the Army Corps of Engineers."

"I'll do that," Paul volunteered, "I've been building a rapport with two guys there in hopes of getting a ride along in one of their choppers for aerial footage."

"Nice show of initiative," Mac nodded appreciatively. "Okay so let's recap: Levee segment is Paul's, Will and I are in charge of Superdome and Wes and Stacy got the convention center. Any questions?"

"What's our fourth segment?" Will reminded her.

"I don't know yet. I'm hoping something interesting will pop up during the day. It's for Aaron, so we've got until noon to decide."

"Okay."

"Other questions? No? Everyone know what their job today is?" Mac looked into a round of eager faces. "Good, then let's do the news."

"Holy shit, we just went over a car," Wesley leaned over the edge of the boat. "How deep do you think it is here?"'

"Fifteen feet?" Will guesstimated.

"Man, I'd be pissed if that were my car," Paul said, "I just bought a new one."

"Jellyfish!" Mackenzie shouted out of nowhere.

"Jesus Christ, you scared me!" Stacy held her hand over her chest.

"What about them?" Will asked.

"Are there any jellyfish in the water?" Mac looked around panicked, as if she expected one to jump out of the water and attack her.

Will raised his eyebrows and stared at her amused.

"What?" She glared back, "It's a perfectly reasonable question." She pointed at Paul, "You heard him. He said Katrina could've brought in all kinds of things from the sea. What if jellyfish are among them?"

"Really Mac?" The new anchor tried his best to keep a straight face. "You're afraid of jellyfish?"

"They're really ugly and creepy with their big heads and ten thousand tentacles!" She shuddered visibly, which he thought was just adorable, "It's like they want to hug you to death after they inject you with their venom."

"Well, the most dangerous thing I can see for miles is an oversized stuffed lion." Will tried to ease her mind and ended up killing the mood in the boat. Where there were soft toys, children were usually not far behind. Please, the newsmen closed their eyes, let their first body today not be a dead kid. They all fell quiet, staring in disbelief at the row of destroyed homes: busted windows, missing rooftops, one house balanced someone's semi-truck precariously on its gable, another one had a massive oak tree lodged in the half of the roof Katrina had left. One house had literally been split in two in the middle, one half standing, the other gone. The unfathomable destruction was hard to put in words.

"I think I just saw a shark," Wesley muttered under his breath.

* * *

"Hi," Mackenzie rushed over to embrace her husband when he entered the room. He barely got a chance to brace himself for the impact and she almost knocked the air out of his lungs with her fierce hug. Will closed his eyes and inhaled her sweet perfume. Mackenzie buried her face into his shoulder, feeling the tension in her body ease. This was home. They held on to each other until Will's guard cleared his throat politely. Reluctantly both relinquished contact and looked at each other sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," Mac stepped back embarrassed, "is this not allowed?"

"I didn't see anything, but, for future references, we're technically in SHU," the correctional officer explained, "where all social and legal visits are non-contact for inmates without the prior consent of the warden."

"Don't call him that," Mackenzie bristled, "he's not an inmate. He's not like the other scumbags in here. He used to be the one who sent them here!"

"Hey," Will tilted his head and ran his hand soothingly down her back, "calm down, Mac. He didn't mean it like that. It's just who I technically am at the moment."

She looked at the tag sewn onto her husband's khaki uniform and brushed her fingers over the number. 02326. That's who he was now. Not Will McAvoy, news anchor extraordinaire. A fucking number in a broken system. She moved her hands to his shoulders ostentatiously and looked into his eyes. "Are they treating you well? Cause if they're not, you just say the word and I'll create a media shitstorm like the world hasn't seen before." 

"I appreciate the sentiment," he grabbed her hands and clasped them between his, "but let's try playing nice first, ok?"

"Okay," she agreed but glared at the guard.

"I'll be outside," Officer Brown nodded to Rebecca.

"Come on," Will led her over to the table where his lawyer was waiting.

"So," Rebecca tended to business at hand, "there's a few things we need to discuss. Right at the top of the list, I have to ask you, now that you've slept on it, are you sure you don't want to appeal?"

"Yes, Lasenthal's just posturing and Cedarman's caught between a rock and a hard place. He can't seem soft when national security is at stake but he doesn't want to lock up a news anchor any minute longer than necessary. I'll be out on Monday when they realize I won't crack under pressure."

"Okay," Rebecca nodded.

"What if Lasenthal's playing hardball? He hasn't backed down once so far," Mackenzie interjected.

"You know what Molly said. Ten days at most. That's a small price to pay compared to what Neal's going through."

"Neal's sipping Mai Tais on a beach in Venezuela," Mac grumbled.

Will sent her a look, "You know that's not true, honey."

"Alright, what if it exceeds ten days?" Rebecca brought their conversation back on track, knowing their time was limited, "Let's talk legal strategies. These are your options..."

* * *

"There's a baby on the rooftop!" Wesley exclaimed shocked. They all turned their heads and sure enough there was a small toddler crawling around clumsily on a mansard roof.

"What the fuck?!?" Will shouted aghast. "Can anyone see the parents?"

They craned their necks and strained their eyes, searching for movement in the area.

"Nobody's here. He's all alone," Stacy shook her head.

"We can't leave him there," Paul pleaded with Mackenzie.

"With all due respect, Mac, you can shove your ethical rules up your ass. I don't care if you fire me but I'm gonna save that kid." Wesley pulled his shirt over his head, getting ready to jump into the water.

"Settle down, Tonto," Will pushed the young reporter back onto the small bench, as he steered the boat towards the house, "you stay put. I'm going to get the kid."

"Will!" Mac protested.

"Relax, Mac, we'll find a place to anchor the boat so I can climb on the roof without getting into the water," Will calmed her down. "I'll scoop up the kid and come right back."

The noise attracted the attention of the toddler who started ambling towards them.

"No!" Stacy shouted and motioned for the kid to stop, "Don't move! Stay where you are. It's not safe!"

"Yeah, I don't think he's old enough to understand you," Mackenzie quipped. "Hello? Is there anybody? Somebody missing a baby?"

"I can't watch this any longer," Wesley jumped up and rocked the boat.

"Sit the fuck down, Wes, before you capsize the boat," Will barked. "I'm not going to call your mother and explain how you broke your leg, or heaven forbid drowned, because you had to play the superhero." He handed the helm over to Mackenzie and clambered onto the roof. The baby giggled and started to make a run for him on all four.

Will scooped him up quickly, "Hey there, young man, where do you think you're going?"

"Da-da-da-da," the little fellow replied promptly and pointed at their boat.

"Let's see if we can't find your mommy before we take you on a boat ride?" He propped the boy up on his hip and walked carefully over to the small window in the roof. "How'd you even get up out here all by yourself?" He peered inside and called out, "Hello?" He waited for a response and bounced the baby a little. "Can anyone hear me? Is there somebody?" Will tried again. He looked at the boy in his arms, "Where's your mommy and daddy, huh?"

"Ga-da-da," the kid looked at him with wide eyes.

Will sighed and walked carefully back to the boat where Mac awaited him with an expectant look.

"I don't know what's going on. I called out a few times but got no response. I'm going inside to see if I can find his parents. Can you take him?" He held out the toddler.

"Hey!" Mac smiled at the small boy as she took him, "What's your name, little fella?"

"Da-ga-da," the boy answered her with a spit bubble and giggled.

"I'll be right back," Will reassured them.

"So much for not getting involved," Paul muttered as the news anchor disappeared through the small window.

* * *

"Consider this my wedding gift," Rebecca winked at the couple before she slipped through the door to handle the guard.

Will raised his eyebrows amused at Mackenzie, "Mrs. McAvoy?"

"Mr. McAvoy," Mac grinned playfully as she leaned forward. "Do they have cameras in here?" She flicked her eyes up to the ceiling, "Never mind, who gives a shit, it's been way too long." Her long eyelashes fluttered as she tilted her head, waiting for Will's lips to draw nearer. Her pulse accelerated until they finally settled on her mouth for a chaste kiss.

"I love you," Mackenzie whispered before she pressed her lips back on his mouth and let them linger a little longer this time.

"Thank God, you're real," Will licked his lips satisfied and murmured, "I was afraid it was all a dream when I woke up in my cell this morning."

She took his hands and linked their fingers. "Not a dream, Billy, we're really married," she smiled.

"I've got a wife," he just looked at her in awe. "You were a very beautiful bride yesterday by the way."

"You were a rather handsome groom."

"I can't believe we really did it," Will muttered, gazing down at their wedding bands.

"I know," Mac giggled, "my mother is going to kill me when she finds out."

"You haven't told your parents yet?"

She shook her head.

"Honey, you should call them before they find out on the news."

"I know," she sighed, "I just didn't feel like getting a lecture from my mother last night. She's going to be livid she missed our wedding. She hasn't spoken about anything else since Christmas. You were there when she commandeered our wedding planning in their kitchen. You just know she's going to lay it on thick."

"She's your mother," Will reminded her, "she loves you, of course, she's going to be upset she couldn't see you walking down the aisle."

"Not as much as dad who didn't get to walk me down the aisle. The only thing he looked forward to _more_ was the father daughter dance."

"He can still have that one."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, we can still hold the big reception in June and celebrate with all our families and friends, so everyone feels included. You dance with your dad while I twirl your mother around the dance floor until she's too dizzy to remember what she wanted to scold us for. It's all paid for anyway and I should be long out by then."

"That might just placate my mother, too."

"Do you want me to call and tell her?" Will grinned, "I've still got that one phone call I'm entitled to."

"You'd use your only phone call from jail to tell my parents we got married behind their back, knowing you'll only earn their disapproval?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "If you ring up my sisters and brother to let them know; I was going to phone Liz."

"If I hadn't already married you yesterday, I would do so right now." She smiled at him and kissed him softly. "Don't worry, I can handle my parents. You should call her, she left me a voicemail last night when she saw it on the news and couldn't reach you. Shannon and Mikey texted me for details, too."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, I didn't know what to say." She shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, guys, I've got good news and bad news, which one do you wanna hear first?"

"Hey," Will rested his hand on her shoulder, "are you ok?"

"What do you think?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes, before she bolted upright. Will recoiled surprised. "Of course, I'm not okay with this! I miss you! I'm scared and confused and so angry right now but mostly I just miss you. And everyone keeps calling to ask me questions I don't know answers to." Mackenzie started pacing the floor. "When's Will gonna get out? Is he alright? When can I visit him? Can I visit him? How are you doing? Do you need anything? Does he need anything? Is there anything I can do? Why won't Will just reveal his source? And that's not even counting in the asinine questions from the press like do you think he's got cold feet?"  She paused and looked at him, "I swear, if one more person asks me how I'm holding up, I'm gonna lose it."

So there it was. The real reason she'd been avoiding friends and family and ignored texts and calls. She was emotionally overwhelmed with the situation and approaching her limits.

"They only mean well, Mackenzie," Will reminded her. "That's what you get for creating such a tight-knit team in the newsroom. They're all going to worry about you like family."

"And it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you asked them to look after me as a favor to you while I was out shopping for my wedding dress yesterday?"

"I didn't," he protested at first. She just glared at him until he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"Charlie even hired me a personal driver until you get out," Mac told Will.

"He's a wise man, he's seen you drive."

"Hey!" She protested vociferously, "I'm an excellent driver!"

"On the left side of the road, yeah," Will quipped.

"Oh my God, how long are you going to keep bringing _that_ up? It was _one_ time and happened _five_ years ago!"

"That's not what I heard from Charlie when you two came back from Maryland."

"The garbage cans were in the middle of the road!" Mackenzie defended herself. "And for the record, he didn't see them, either, because we were both looking at house numbers. How do you even know about that? Do you guys get together after our show to talk about me?"

"C'mere, my little wrong-way driver," Will got up and gave Mackenzie a bear hug. 

"I didn't drive on the wrong side," Mac objected and pointed out, "if I _had_ , I wouldn't have been close enough to the curb to run over the recycling bins."

"You're going to be a handful, aren't you?" He chuckled.

"Like you didn't know that before you proposed," she pulled back, smirking. God, how he loved that twinkle in her eyes.

"And married you anyway," he grinned nonchalantly. Will let his fingers trail down her front. "I don't mind having my hands full with you." He cupped her breasts and squeezed them softly. "In fact, it feels like you were made to fit exactly into my hands."

They shared a slow and intimate kiss, caressing each other's tongues and lips. Mac's fingers glided through Will's hair with a content sigh, while his hands moved to her hips. His grip tightened a little, before he hoisted her on the table. She yelped surprised, but his mouth swallowed her squeal. He knew he couldn't let things go too far, but eleven minutes yesterday were not nearly enough. She let her thighs fall apart in a silent invitation, and he stepped into the 'V' between her legs. Her hands snuck underneath his shirt. Will groaned when she raked her fingernails gently over his pectorals. His hands went back to groping her breasts. Mac moaned and pushed her mounds into his palm. Will rubbed his thumb over her hardening nipples, which were clearly visible now through the thin material of her silk blouse. His touch caused a shiver down her spine. Mac ran her fingers up and down his sides while caressing his tongue with the tip of hers. She couldn't get enough of her husband. What felt like an electric jolt went through their bodies, turning up their arousal another notch. Their kissing quickly escalated into a full-on make-out session. She locked her legs behind Will's hips, trapping him between her legs. His hard-on pressed into her pants. Oh God, why did it have to be pants today of all days? If she wore a skirt, he could just push her panties aside for free access. He growled frustrated.

"I didn't trust myself in a skirt around you today," Mackenzie mumbled against his lips as if she could read his mind.

"Huh?" He looked at her dumbfounded. His brain had already moved on to her perky breasts, debating with himself whether he should unbutton her blouse and suck her tits until he brought her to an orgasm.

"We shouldn't abuse our privileges," she rasped breathlessly into his ear, "I don't want to get Rebecca into trouble."

"She arranged the whole thing," Will pointed out.

"To give us a little time alone," Mac frowned amused, "not to consummate our marriage."

"For the record," Will huffed, "that was not clear from her statement."

He pulled back disappointed and Mackenzie giggled. "What?"

"Your hair," she bit her lip, "come here, Billy." She combed her fingers through his tousled hair, until he looked more representable.

"I suppose you want me to fix up the top two buttons I already undid on your blouse?"

"When did you?" She looked down confused. "Nah, that's fine. It said 'dress conservatively' in the brochure they handed me downstairs, so I did them all the way up on my blouse. Just to be safe."

"I think they were referring to tank tops, mini skirts, cut-off shorts, and things like that," Will found it incredibly amusing that she thought the guideline applied to her, "rather than the top two buttons on your admittedly very sexy," he reached behind her, pulled back her collar and peered over her neck at the tag, "Burberry blouse." His eyes spotted the bag she'd brought in with her and placed at the foot of the table. "What's this?"

"Thank God, because it was starting to get a little hard to breathe," Mac rearranged her collar. "Oh that's just stuff for you. You know toothbrush, toothpaste, roll-on, etc."

"Thanks, honey."

"They took away your straight razor but I've brought you your favorite shaving cream."

"You mean the one you like so much because it makes my skin so soft and smells so good?" He crossed his arms amused.

"Guilty as charged," she grinned. "Oh and here's something to read when I'm gone," she reached into the bag and pulled out the latest issue of _The New Yorker_.

"Thanks again."

"This reminds me," Mac flipped through the pages until the stiff envelope interrupted the flow, "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Uh-huh," she nodded and bit her lip, beaming at him. Will took the little card that was stuck between the pages of the magazine and realized it was a letter. He frowned as he scanned the childish handwriting on the envelope. His head snapped up shocked when he recognized the sender's name.

* * *

"Hello?" Will called out. He climbed through the window and stepped on a changing table. He looked around before he jumped off the dresser and landed in knee-deep water with a loud splash. Baby toys, cushions and pieces of plywood floated around. He waded slowly through the water. "Hello, can anybody hear me?"

"Help!"

Will paused, straining his ears, because he thought he'd just heard something. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Yes, over here! Please, help me!!" A weak voice called out to him. The news anchor looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

"Where are you?"

"Over here, behind the cupboard," the voice coughed, "I'm trapped by a fallen beam. I can't get out."

"Stay calm, I'll come get you." Will spotted a makeshift wall made of small pieces of furniture piled on top of each other. He made his way over as fast as he was able to but couldn't see anyone. He started to move some of the clutter until the voice begged him to stop.

"Fucking hell," he shrieked and almost peed his pants. The eyes of a woman peered up at him among the junk.

"I'm sorry," the woman wheezed, "I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you'd seen me when you ran over."

"No," Will panted, "you're fine... just... don't tell... my staff... I screamed... like a little... girl."

"It was a very manly high-pitched scream," she smiled and craned her neck a little to get a better look at him, "Please, don't move anything, my husband built me this wall to keep my head above the water." 

"Where _is_ your husband?" Will looked around the room for something to help the trapped woman.

"He went searching for help," she coughed, "he couldn't move the beam and find a way to free me."

"And left your son unsupervised on the rooftop?" Will looked at her aghast.

"My baby's on the roof?!?!?" Fear gripped the mother's heart.

"Not anymore, we found him in time. He's with my colleagues in our boat." Will explained as he squeezed past the barricade and tried to lift the beam with his bare hands.

"He must have left the window open when he crawled out through the roof. It was the only way out. Water just kept pouring in everywhere. We were prepared for the first floor to be flooded but not the second story."

"What's your name?" Will asked her while he tried to jolt the beam.

"Mandy."

"Okay, Mandy. I don't think I can move the beam by myself. I'm going to go back outside and talk to my colleagues. We have a satellite phone and can redirect rescue workers to you."

"You mean you're not from the fire department?"

Will shook his head, "I'm a reporter but I promise you help is on the way. Just let me..." Her hand darted out of the water when he tried to squeeze past her again, and Will flinched again. This was starting to feel like a horror movie. "Don't leave me here," she stopped him, "I don't want to die alone!"

"You're not going to die, Mandy," he reasoned with her.

"I've been trapped under the debris for hours. What day is today?"

"Wednesday morning."

She coughed, "I know my time has come. I'm tired and exhausted. And so cold. If they ain't here now, they won't make it in time."

"Don't say things like that." Will implored her. "I'll be right back. I'll tell them to bring helicopters!"

Mandy chuckled, "You're sweet." She coughed again and Will realized horrified that she was spitting up blood, which meant that she probably had internal injuries. "I'm sorry, talking's really bad for me."

"Then don't say a thing and let me get you help," Will tried to pry the woman's fingers gently off.

"What's your name?" She wheezed.

"Will."

"Will, can you promise me something?" Mandy struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Anything," he nodded.

"Make sure Dijon's reunited with his father."

Will blew air through his cheeks slowly. "I'll try but it's chaos out there."

"I know but aren't you an investigative reporter?"

He grimaced, "I'm a news anchor."

"I guess that'll have to do then." She teased him despite her condition.

Will chuckled.

"So who did you piss off that you got sent out here for hurricane watch?"

"Nobody," he shook his head.

"Ahhh," Mandy grinned knowingly, "what's her name?"

"Huh?"

"The girl you're trying to impress by standing your ground in the face of a cat 4 hurricane?"

"Mackenzie," Will confessed, "am I really that transparent?"

Mandy shrugged her shoulders, "You say that like it's a bad thing." She broke off because a violent coughing fit gripped her body and left her exhausted. 

"Try not to talk so much," Will ran his fingers gently through the wet strands of her hair.

"We named him Dijon because I developed this strange craving for Dijon mustard when I was pregnant with him. It was a joke at first, you know, something other to call the baby than 'it' or 'the baby,' but then the name grew on us." She smiled wistfully at the memory. "You'll tell him I love him with all my heart, forever and for always."

"You tell him yourself. Let me get him to say good-bye."

"No," she shook her head, "I don't want him to remember this."

"I don't think he's old enough..." Will pointed out.

"Then no need to put him through this," she sniffled, "I can't do this. Traumatize him like that. I can't look into his sweet, little face and say good-bye to him."

"Okay," Will nodded as tears welled up in his eyes now, too, "what else do you want him to know?"

"Say please and thank you. Use your words and not your fists. Stay in school. Be kind." She paused, trying to formulate a clear thought but it was getting harder, "Tell him to be good for his daddy and stay away from gangs, and always, always, always use condoms so he won't be stuck in the same place his daddy and I were. He should go to college instead and do something with his life. Find a nice girl from a good family. Marry up."

"That's pretty good advice," Will smiled through his tears.

"Right? I think so, too." She wheezed through another coughing fit.

"You shouldn't strain yourself too much," Will told her, "I'll make sure he knows."

She ignored his advice and started to mumble, "Eight, nine, seven, double zero, five, three, two, four."

"What?"

"Eight, nine, seven, double zero, five, three, two, four." She repeated a little louder this time, but her voice was starting to fail her.

"I don't understand," Will looked at her confused. It couldn't be a phone number, unless she was missing a digit.

"Repeat after me. Eight, nine, seven." She waited for him until he recited the numbers back to her, "double zero, five, three, two, four. Again."

"Eight, nine, seven, double zero, five, three, two, four." He rattled off the numbers with a little more confidence though he was still at a loss what to do with them.

She repeated the sequence for him one more time, making sure he got it right. 

"What's so important about these numbers?" Will gripped her hand as he saw the light slowly go out in her eyes. "What do you want me to do with those numbers?" He yelled.

"Sosh...sec..." She whispered with her dying breath.

"Soshek?" He looked at her confused. "Sosh...ek...sosh...sec...Social security? Is that it? Mandy! Did you just give me your social security number? Mandy! Mandy? Mandy!" He shook her body and banged hist fist into the wall frustrated when her head slumped over. 


	10. House of the Rising Sun

Will slipped his finger into the torn envelope while looking at Mackenzie with a question in his eyes.

"Go ahead, read it," she encouraged him.

He pulled out the letter and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the text eagerly, as he paced up and down the floor. His restlessness drove her quickly crazy, so her hand darted out to pull him on the table next to her. Will glanced at her curiously.

"You ok, honey?"

"Yeah," his voice sounded rough, betraying his state of mind. "Just a little unexpected, you know?"

"Mhm," she stroked his back gently.

"Brings back a lot of memories," he swallowed hard.

"I know, honey," she kissed him.

"I haven't thought about them in quite a while," Will admitted.

"Me neither," she confessed. He looked at her but she took the wind right out of his sails, knowing what he was going to say next. "That doesn't make us bad people, Will. Life goes on, as I'm sure it does for Dijon and his father, but that doesn't mean we forget."

"He sounds like a great kid from what I've read so far."

"Yeah?" Mac smiled.

He nodded, "He seems... well-adjusted," his voice rose as if at the end of a question, "considering the circumstances. You don't think so?" He suddenly felt unsure. What the hell did he know about raising kids?

"I couldn't possibly say," she shrugged her shoulders.

"You haven't read it?" He asked her astonished and glanced at the letter in his lap.

"No," she shook her head, "that honor was supposed to go to you but then the guard outside insisted on screening the letter."

"Oh," Will nodded in understanding, "want me to read it out loud?" He offered her the letter, "Or you can read it yourself, if you want."

"No, you read it," she put her head on his shoulder, "You know I love your voice."

"Ok," Will smiled and turned his head to kiss her forehead. He cleared his throat and read Dijon's letter to him out loud:  


_Dear Mr McAvoy,_

_Thank you for saving my life. My name is Dijon. I'm the little boy you rescued from the roof almost eight years ago_  
                    when Katrina destroyed our old house. I'm nine now and I live in Indiana with my daddy and new mommy. He says  
                    I'm a big boy now and old enough to know the truth. He told me about my real mom after my last birthday. How  
_she died in the floods and how you found me and saved me and tried to help her._

 _Dying must be so scary. I'm glad you were there. And she wasn't alone. I always hold my dad's hand when I'm_  
_scared. Did she hold your hand?  Was she very scared? I wish I could hug her. I want to tell her I'm ok. So she can_  
_stop worrying about me. I have a lot of friends. We play baseball and video games. My favorite game is GTA. Dad_  
_says I'm too young. But I play it at my friend Bobby's house. His brother has the game. He's very old. He goes to a_  
_different school. Do you have a favorite game? I wanna be a race car driver when I grow up. Then I can drive cars all_  
_day. I like cars. Do you like cars? What car do you drive? My dad has a Toyota. It's meh. I want a Ferrari when I grow_  
_up. I'll try to be gooder for daddy. Sometimes it's just really hard. Like when I play with my toys and he says I must_  
_do homework. I don't like homework. Mrs Vanson says I'm a very good boy in school. She's my teacher. She's very_  
_nice. I like her. I'm the best in math in my class. I can read and write real fast too._

 _Dad says it's okay that I can't remember my real mom. Because I was so small when she passed away. He says she_  
_loved me very very much. I have a new mommy now. She's very nice. Her name is Julia. He doesn't talk about it a lot_  
_because it makes him sad. I don't like it when he's sad. So I don't ask about her much. He thinks you're supercool_  
_tho. Because you risked your life for me and my real mom. He tivos your show every night. Sometimes he let's me_  
_stay up and watch it too. Why's the news always so sad? Can't you do good news? The world would be a better_  
_place if we told more happy news and not so many bad news!_

 _I googled your name when my father gave me your letter. Your a real badass!! I really really hope you don't have to_  
_go to jail!!! Anyways that was mighty cool of you. I mean the letter. Because your famous and all. Bobby Miller went_  
_green with envy. I showed him the letter because he didn't believe me first. It would be really nice to meet you_  
_sometimes. But I know that your very busy. Maybe you can write me back? Then I know you read my letter._

_Your friend, Dijon ☺︎_

_P.S. There's a picture of me in the envelope._

_P.S.S. It's all over the internet that your getting married soon,  so cOnGraTulAtiOns!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

                   ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎ ♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

"Aw, he drew little hearts for you," Mac grinned as she ran her fingers over the boy's brightly colored decoration. 

Will reached into the envelope and pulled out a small photograph.

"And look, he's already lost a milk tooth," she pointed to the boy's wide smile. They studied the picture together. Dijon was well-dressed and groomed for the occasion. He was grinning brightly into the camera, proudly displaying his pearly white teeth - with the exception of his missing incisor.

"We should invite them to the newsroom once school's out for the summer. Show them the studio, let Dijon sit on my chair behind the anchor desk. He'll love that."

"He'll be thrilled just meeting you," Mac interjected, "It sounds like you're some kind of superhero to him because you saved him as a baby."

"We'll ask Jenna to put together a fake copy with all happy news that he can read off the teleprompter," he continued enthusiastically. "Eat your heart out, Bobby Miller!" His grin faltered when he looked at his wife, "What?"

"Nothing," Mac just smiled and combed his hair with her fingers. She leaned in and kissed him hard. "You'll be a great father."

Will suddenly grew quiet and stared at the picture in his hand.

* * *

"The fuck, Will! Where've you been?" Mackenzie almost accosted him when he stepped back into the boat. "You were gone for almost half an hour."

Will ignored her and pulled the chain to start the motor. He wanted to get as fast and far away from this place as possible. 

"Fuck it, Will, you went into the water!" Mackenzie cursed, noticing his wet clothes and the blood spatter on it.

"Right now, I don't give a fucking shit!" Will snapped at her and Mac shrank back. She'd never seen such ire in his eyes. Whatever he'd seen inside the house had shattered him to the core. Will started the motor and mumbled the same sequence of numbers over and over.

"What?" Mac leaned in, "I can't understand you."

Will's head jerked up and he looked at her as if he'd seen her for the first time.

"Will, you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you have a sharpie?"

"Why?" She patted down her pockets.

"Here, I got one," Paul offered him his pen.

"Can you take over for me for a couple of minutes?"

"Of course," Paul nodded and traded places.

"Smooth movements, don't jerk the rudder." He instructed the other reporter.

Will crawled over to Wesley who was holding the toddler in his lap like a ticking time bomb. The boat started to rock dangerously and water threatened to spill in.

"That's not going to work," Mackenzie stopped him, sensing Will wanted the baby, "give the kid to me."

Wesley handed over the boy and Mackenzie sat him down in her lap opposite Will. The news anchor grabbed the toddler's feet and tore the cap off the pen with his teeth. "That's going to tickle a little," he grinned at the boy and began to write down the same sequence of numbers he'd been mumbling to himself for the past ten minutes on the child's lower arm and stomach. Will thanked the Lord for small blessings because despite the baby's mixed racial background his skin wasn't dark enough to absorb the black color of the pen.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm writing down his mother's social security number because I don't trust these incompetent bureaucrats not to lose a baby. This way, they'll be able to keep track of him until they find his father. Hopefully." Will eyed the print on the sharpie. "Says here it's water resistant, so hopefully it will hold for a couple of days."

"How do you know his mother's social security number?"

"Found it on some documents lying around the attic," Will lied.

"You found documents but not the mother?" Mac looked at him skeptically.

Will ignored her and smiled at the child, "Can you tell me your name, little man?"

The toddler babbled and Will decided it might be a good idea to write the kid's name on his other arm. "D-I-J-O-N. Like the mustard," Will grinned, "because that's what your momma craved when she was pregnant with you and don't you ever forget that, kiddo."

"What happened to his mother?" Mackenzie wanted to know when she caught the redness in his eyes. 

Dijon giggled as he blew another spit bubble.

"What. Happened. With. His. Mother. Will?" Mac enunciated every syllable as she fixated his eyes.

"She didn't make it, ok?" Will looked at her sharply.

"Fuck," Paul shouted and scrubbed his hand over his face.

"She's dead," he told Mac, "found her drowned," he swallowed hard, "trapped by falling debris." 

"It ain't right what's happening here," Paul shook his head. "Why's nobody here helping these poor people? This is just so messed up. Where the fuck is everybody?"

"What are we gonna do now?" Stacy spoke up, "I mean with the kid. Obviously, we can't drop him off at the Superdome or convention center."

"Those are no places for a baby, are they?" Mackenzie raised her voice and bounced the boy on her lap to keep him entertained.

"He needs something to eat," Will mused, "I don't think he's been fed in a few days."

Wesley reached into a pocket on his vest and pulled out a Twinkie he'd stolen from a broken vending machine earlier.

"Put that away, man!" Will shook his head, "You can't feed a Twinkie to a baby. We don't even know how old he is!"

Mac slipped a finger into his mouth and announced, "He's got teeth."

"So he might be off formula already."

"This town doesn't have drinking water, where the hell are we gonna get formula until FEMA can take him off our hands?!?" Mac pondered.

"Stacy," Will tossed the reporter his satellite phone and keys to their rental truck, "that's going to be your problem. Find someone from FEMA who can tell us what to do with the baby and procure some formula or other type of baby food."

"Preferably simultaneously because once his hunger catches up with him, he'll be one loud, unhappy fella, won't you?" Mac cooed, "Yes, you will."

"That's sexist!" Stacy protested, "Why does it have to be me?"

"Because I need my EP to help me prepare for today's show and Paul operates our camera."

"What about Wes?"

"He'll watch the baby for us, unless you'd like to switch places."

Stacy eyed the squirming toddler in Mac's lap, "Nope, I'm good." She started dialing numbers, "I'll call Anderson. Maybe he knows some kind of FEMA rendezvous spot for separated families. He's been helping coordinate rescue forces the past two days."

* * *

They returned to their base camp with a screaming toddler in tow. 

"I'll try to get my hands on some diapers and baby food." Stacy jogged over to their parked truck.

"I'll cut the video footage for our show," Paul high-tailed it to the ballroom floor where the generators kept the electricity running for an hour each in the morning, afternoon, evenings and late night so the reporters could charge the batteries for all of their equipment.

"I'll help him," Wes deserted them, too, lugging a camera bag and heavy tripod.

"Wow, my sisters were right," Mac joked. "Nothing like having a baby to find out who your real friends are." She looked at Will who'd spaced out. "Will?"

"Hm?"

"What do you wanna do?"

"I'm gonna head up to the pool to rinse off the grime in lieu of a shower. Can you keep an eye on him for a while?" 

"Sure, I'll call D.C. to discuss the rundown with the rest of our staff."

"Great, I'll come by your room to work on my copy in about half an hour."

"Sounds good to me."

They climbed the stairs together to their respective floors. Because of the storm damage, they were spread out in three different rooms across two different floors.

"I want us to do a segment on Dijon."

"I'm not using a lost baby to boost our ratings!"

"Of course not!" Will looked at her horrified. "I'm not dragging him in front of the cameras! I'm not even going to mention how we rescued him. But would it be really so unethical if we used our public exposure to help search for his father?"

"You don't know if he's alive," Mac pointed out. "Maybe he bailed on his family months ago. Maybe he isn't in the picture at all. Maybe he's a deadbeat father who'd hurt Dijon so he's be better off without him anyway. Maybe his father died with his mother."

"For heaven's sake, Mackenzie, can we just do things my way for once? Maybe his dad's really gone but then we gotta find some other next of kin for Dijon because I sure as hell don't trust FEMA with him." He had that look in his eyes again, the same tortured one she'd seen when he'd stormed onto the boat.

"Okay," Mac  held up her hands in surrender, "I'll let you open with Dijon but only this one time. This is obviously an extraordinary situation and quite frankly this whole staying detached and observe thing's been shot to hell already anyway."

* * *

"Brian!" Mackenzie greeted her colleague from NBC enthusiastically.

"I heard through the grapevine that you and Will adopted a kid, so naturally I just had to come and see this for myself." 

"We didn't adopt him," Will grumbled, "in fact, we'd just as soon get rid of him if only we could find someone with proper authority to take him off our hands." Dijon scrunched up his face and let out a wail. "I know, buddy, you're hungry. Food's on the way, Casey will be back soon."

"Stacy," Mac corrected him automatically.

As if on cue, the young reporter jogged up to them in the lobby, waving a jar of Gerber's Chicken & Rice triumphantly. "Don't ask me what I had to do to get this."

"Striptease?" Will asked promptly with a wink.

Stacy rolled her eyes, as she tossed him the jar. "I've also managed to get a few diapers and a six pack of water," she placed the plastic bags at the news anchor's feet, "but I'm still having no luck reaching FEMA." 

"What's his name?" Williams asked.

"Dijon," Will smiled as he unscrewed the lid. Dijon frowned and leaned forward, picking up the smell. He furrowed his brows and glanced at Will worriedly.

Mac swooned, "Oh my gosh, that face is priceless."

"Did you bring a spoon?" Will looked at Stacy.

"Nobody said anything about a spoon," the young reporter defended herself.

"This is a fucking hotel," Will replied, "they must have spoons around here somewhere. Go find one!"

"Be right back."

"I'm calling Molly. Maybe she can help us track down next of kin through his mother's social security number." Mac dialed her friend and stepped aside for some privacy.

Dijon made a grab for the lid in Will's hand and pulled it closer to his nose. He sniffed it suspiciously and stuck his little tongue out tentatively. Brian and Will laughed out loud, watching the boy lick the lid. He smacked his lips a few times and ran his tongue over them, looking confused by the taste. 

"You should check the expiration date," Williams suggested. "We don't know where she got it. She may have just raided someone's garage."

"Good thinking," Will nodded and searched for the stamp at the side of the lid. "We're in the clear." He took a whiff of the pureed rice and chicken and pulled a face. "Can't argue with you there, buddy, that does indeed smell rotten."

"Let me," Brian held out his hand and Will passed the glass jar on to his colleague. "Nope, that's how it smells," he suppressed his gag reflex, "forgot how gross that stuff is. It gets a little better when you heat it up, but we don't have that option here. You should be thankful, though, your intern didn't get strained peas. Now that shit doesn't only look and taste ugly when it goes in, it smells like hell when it comes out!" 

"You got kids?"

"Girls," Brian nodded, "who are thankfully potty-trained and old enough to feed themselves."

Dijon whimpered and Will bounced him on his knee to keep him entertained. "I know, buddy, I know. We'll get some food into your tummy soon." Clearly unwilling to be put off any longer, the toddler started to cry.

"I talked to Molly and gave her number to our newsroom. They've been getting a few calls since the broadcast but they're still weeding out the weirdos for legitimate  tips. She promised to get back to me within the hour."

Dijon's screams got louder and attracted the attention of the other reporters staying in their hotel. Mackenzie offered to take the baby from Will but when he tried to pass him off, he got only more hysterical. He draped him over his shoulder instead and rubbed his back soothingly.

"He's about to have a meltdown," Brian pointed out. "Poor fella's been through too much to handle." He pulled a few funny faces, trying to entertain the boy. Mackenzie watched the two newsmen amused as they tried to distract an almost inconsolable Dijon. Thankfully, Stacy returned finally with a spoon.

"Here we go," Will propped the boy up on his knee. He dipped the spoon into the jar and offered it to the toddler who scrunched up his nose. Dijon looked up skeptically at Will, as if to ask whether he was absolutely sure this was safe to eat.

"Mmmm, yummy!"

"You have to taste it for him," Brian explained. "He'll eat it if you do. Maybe he's used to a different brand. Babies can be picky like that. Always worked with my girls."

Will pulled a face. He'd smelled that shit, he sure as hell wasn't going to taste it.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Mackenzie rolled her eyes and leaned over Will's shoulder. She slipped the spoon into her mouth. "Mmmm!" She smiled at the boy, as she pulled back, then turned around quickly and grimaced. She shuddered as she stuck out her tongue. Holy fuck, that was disgusting!

Still, Mac's show did the trick and Dijon opened his mouth for Will to feed him.

"So when are you guys pulling out?" Williams asked.

"What's he talking about?" Stacy looked at her boss.

"We heard CNN's pulling out of New Orleans because of the violence, so NBC is pulling everyone out, too. Not that I mind, I don't feel safe at the Ritz anymore."

"Where you going?" Will looked up. Dijon got impatient and reached out to grab the spoon and moved it to his mouth.

"Metairie, just west of 17th Street Canal."

The journalists argued a little bit back and forth about staying or leaving. Dijon watched them, his eyes following Will and Mac like a tennis match. He completely forgot about his food, becoming completely engrossed in their voices.

"Hey, buddy, you're supposed to be eating," Will glanced down when he noticed Dijon had stopped. "Are you done?" He inspected the jar. It was still half full. "You gotta finish that, buddy. Lacey went all the way to the end of the world to get it for you. We don't want her to feel hurt, do we?" He scooped up some more and offered it to Dijon. "No?" Will did what most parents in that particular situation did. He started making motor sounds and moved the spoon around as if it were a plane to appeal to the boy's developing fine motor skills. Indeed, Dijon's eyes lit up as they followed the spoon and gaped excited, which Will used as an opportunity to stick the spoon in. "Touchdown!"

"We're staying," Mac stated firmly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Will amused.

"They're saying the French Quarter's no longer safe. Heck, someone said they shot at a chopper over the Superdome trying to drop water and food." Brian tried to change her mind one last time.

Will stopped making airplane noises to accompany the feeding and glanced at his EP, "We should do a piece about that." 

"You mean white people scavenging, black people looting?"

Will resumed stuttering motor noises and "flew" the spoon into Dijon's mouth.

He nodded, "There's a difference if you're shooting at rescue workers who are trying to help you or firing a gun into the air to draw attention to your situation."

"Well, I saw people of all races looting. I mean I understand them grabbing clothes and shoes, even in sizes that don't fit them because it's still better than wearing nothing at all or staying in wet clothes. But what are they going to need a 40" plasma screen TV for? Trade it in for supplies? Where? With whom?" Brian watched as Will started to bounce Dijon on his knee when he got restless. "Don't do that!"

"What?" Will looked at his colleague confused.

"You just fed..." Williams pointed at his legs but it was too late as the boy spit up all over the news anchor's shirt, "him." He couldn't help but snicker at the sight.

"Oh, come on," Will threw his head back. "Mackenzie, can you take him before I smother him and solve all our problems?"

She snorted, knowing his threat was idle, and looked around for something resembling a rag to wipe the baby's face.

"Take these," Brian offered her a sealed pack of baby wipes. 

"Thank you," Mackenzie pulled one out and took the kid from Will. She carefully wiped his face clean under loud protests from the boy.

"Well, I think my work here is done," Brian winked at Will, who rolled his eyes, as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Be careful, ok? We had to ask armed soldiers to watch our back while we did something for _Dateline_. Let me know how things with little Dijon go," he high-fived the boy.

"We will," Mac nodded. They bid each other good-bye. Mackenzie and Stacy went in search of Paul and Wesley while Will dashed up to his room to change clothes.

* * *

The boys had joined the large group of journalists in the lobby who worked down long lists of next of kin provided by people trapped in the Superdome and Convention center. Every night, they used their satellite phones to call more names on the ever-growing lists to let mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, grandparents and grandkids know that their loved ones had survived the storm.

"Any word from FEMA?" Paul looked up from his list where he just crossed out another name when Mackenzie sat down on the couch next to him.

"Wanna trade?" She offered her colleague a break from the harrowing task of notifying next of kin.

"Nah, I'm fine, Wes could use a break, though."

"I'll relieve him," Stacy offered immediately. 

"Where's Will?" Wesley asked, wiping his eyes, as he plopped down next to Mac and tickled Dijon's tummy.

"I wouldn't do that," she warned him, "he just ate and barfed all over Will when he jostled him too much."

"Okay," the young reporter pulled back his hands, laughing out loud. 

"So to answer your question, he's upstairs changing shirts."

"What are we gonna do with you, little man, if FEMA doesn't send anyone to pick you up?" Wes tickled the toddler's calves who kicked back strongly, squealing in delight.

"That's a very good question," Mac sighed.

Wesley wrinkled his nose, "Do you know how to change a diaper?"

"Well, Wesley, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" She took one of the nappies Stacy had left with her and scratched her head.

"Maybe if you removed the old one?" Paul suggested, "Then you could see how it's fastened."

"Good idea," Mac undressed Dijon carefully who wriggled around in protest. "I know this is uncomfortable and I've got no clue what I'm doing here but I need your cooperation, sweetheart." She reasoned with the boy. "Okay, let's see." She inspected the strips before she peeled them off.

"Looks like this goes here, and this side up," Wesley prepared the fresh diaper following her instructions, "oh my God!" All three of them gagged because of the smell. "What the hell did Will feed you?"

The other journalists in the room stopped talking and sniffed the air. They rolled their eyes when they saw Mac changing diapers and went back to their calls.

"Oh come on," Mac groaned when Dijon peed all over her blouse as soon as they removed the dirty diaper. "That was rather predictable after what you did to Will." The toddler giggled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Dijon struggled to get up and crawl around. "Not so fast, young man!" She muttered and held him in place to wipe his butt. 

"I think it's too small." Wes noted as he slipped the fresh diaper under the toddler.

"Well, we've gotta make do." Mac shrugged her shoulders. They tugged and stretched the material until it was somewhat in place.

"Paul?" Wes called out to his friend. "Do you have tape?"

Paul glanced at the trio next to him and reached into his vest to pull out a roll of packing tape. He tossed it to his colleague without interrupting his phone conversation. Wesley tore off a few stripes and fixed the diaper. Mac ogled the contraption around Dijon's butt skeptically when Will came bounding into the lobby breathlessly, "Mac! Mac! Mac! Mac! Mac!"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yesss!" She yelled back, "Over here!"

He scanned the armchairs and couches filled with reporters until his eyes settled on his crew.

"I just got off the phone with Molly."

"Why'd she call you and not me?"

"I don't know?" He grinned, "Maybe because I'm the prettier one?"

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes, "what did she say?"

"We found next of kin. Someone called our newsroom after he saw our show and claimed to be Dijon's great-grandfather. Deb contacted Molly and, get this, he checks out. His grandson is Dijon's father, one José Gonzales. She ran Mandy's social security number and found out her only next of kin is her husband. He said his wife talked to their granddaughter Maria in Metairie a couple minutes ago. She's waiting there to be evacuated tonight and borrowed a reporter's satellite phone."

"If we can find Maria," Mac's eyes lit up.

"If we find her in time, she'll deliver Dijon safely to his great-grandparents for us. They've agreed to look after him for as long as necessary." Will nodded. "Molly cleared everything with FEMA. They don't have time to search for Maria and she doesn't know about Dijon yet. Deb's trying to locate the reporter who allowed her to use his phone but it's a search for a needle in the haystack."

"Wait a moment," Mac put her hand on his chest, "did you say Metairie?"

"Yes, that's where they're bringing people to be evacuated..." Will trailed off before he suddenly exclaimed, "NBC!"

"I'm calling Brian right now," She snatched the phone out of his hand. "Who's got the list?"

"I do," Wesley sat Dijon down on the couch next to him while he searched his pockets for the contact list. "Here you go."

"Do we have Maria's full name?" Mac glanced at Will while she dialed Brian's number.

"Maria García," Will looked at his notes.

"Hi, Brian, long time no see," Mackenzie joked when her colleague from NBC finally picked up his phone. "Listen, I need a favor. We're trying to locate a Maria García in Metairie. She's waiting to be evacuated tonight and it's really important we find her before... because she's Dijon's aunt... or something. I'm not entirely clear on the relationship but she's on her way to her grandparents who have promised to look after Dijon until his father can be found... I know she's a needle in the haystack but we know she talked to a reporter who gave her his phone to call her grandmother." She paused and listened for a while, "You'll ask around? That's great. Thanks so much for helping us. Will and I will be there as soon as possible, ok? Do you have our satellite phone number? Yeah? Okay, see you soon. Bye." Mac ended the phone call and beamed at Will.

"Yes, baby," Wesley exclaimed as he high-fived Paul. 

"Where _is_ the baby?" Will looked at the boys who scrambled around frantically. 

"He was here just a minute ago!" Paul pointed at the spot on the couch where Wesley had put the boy a few minutes ago.

"Did you two clowns just lose a fucking baby?!?" Mac put her hands on her hips and glared at her staff.

"I don't fucking believe this!" Will shouted. "We finally find someone to take him off our hands and you lose him?"

"Hey," Stacy called out from behind them.

"Not now, Lacey," Will barked, "can't you see we're busy?!"

"I know. I've had a visitor on the other side of the room," Stacy continued unperturbed. "Could it be you're searching for him?"

"What?" They turned around, exclaiming, "Dijon!"

"Looks like he was bored and decided to explore. I found him crawling between my feet," she explained.

"Oh, thank God, nothing happened to him," Wesley took the toddler back from his colleague. 

"Okay guys, no time for tearful reunions, we've got to get the kid back to his family. We can't miss Maria. Let's go, go, go!" Mac gave marching orders to everyone.

* * *

"Are we making a mistake?" Will looked at Mackenzie.

"Huh?"

"About the baby," he clarified, "isn't it selfish of us to want a baby?"

"Is it selfish of us to bring children into a world that's fraught with natural disasters and geopolitical tensions?" She frowned, trying to follow his train of thought.

"Am I not too old to become a father?" Will ran his fingers nervously through his hair, "I'm over fifty; if things go our way, I'll be at least seventy when our child graduates high school, if not..." He trailed off.

"You're not going to die, Billy," Mac tried to reassure him.

"I find your willpower amazing but even I don't think you can keep me alive by sheer force of will."

"Average life expectancy in the US is 78.74 years," Mac reminded him. "You should know that. We just did a segment on that on our show a few months ago when the new statistics came out."

"How could I forget? You took a life insurance policy out on me and fed me rice with vegetables, and greek yoghurt for weeks afterwards," Will groaned. "And the fact that you remember the number down to the second decimal point tells me you've thought about this, too."

"Of course, I've thought about it," she conceded, "but I'm not having this discussion with you in _fucking jail_!" She raised her voice and crossed her arms, signaling the end of their conversation.

"A child needs a father, Mackenzie," Will tried again, "I know that better than anyone else. What business do I have fathering children, knowing there's a real chance I might not live long enough to see them grow up? That's just cruel and irresponsible. I won't make the same mistakes my father did with my kids. I want to be there for my son. Teach him about baseball and girls, how to drive a car. Make sure he grows up into a fine young man and doesn't become like his fucked-up old man."

Mac swallowed back her tears, "So what are you saying? You don't want a baby anymore?"

"No!" He blurted out. "Maybe?" He sighed, "I don't know."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," she sniffled sarcastically.

"I thought I was ready but reading Dijon's letter reminded me of the consequences. How do you think it makes me feel that I might not be able to hold up my end of the bargain? I don't want to leave you behind with our child, making you raise him alone. I don't want to let you down. I love you and I want to take care of our family."

"You could never let me down, Billy," Mac took his face in her hands. "Never," she emphasized, as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "You're not a fucked-up old man. You're the sweetest husband in the world. And you'll be an amazing father for all the reasons that kept you from embarking on the journey of fatherhood so far. You're not going to take your role lightly, you're not going to shun your responsibilities. You'll embrace fatherhood with every fibre of your body because you don't know any other way to do it. And God help me, because you'll hover around me nonstop for nine months while I'm pregnant and it'll take all my resolve not to punch your face when I'm in labour and you put yourself in charge of morale for childbirth," she chuckled and he opened his mouth. She didn't give him a chance to utter a word and continued right on, "But, Billy, if fifteen or twenty years of perfect bliss together is all we'll ever get, I'll take them and cherish every day. And our son or daughter will look back on a childhood filled with unconditional love and support, even if it's just ten or five years. And it will make all the difference in their lives because you will have instilled in them the values and confidence they need to go out and conquer the world and change it for the better."

"You know you've just given your blessing to raising our kids Republican?" He joked.

"Yes," she hiccuped laughing. 

"I want that baby and I'm ready to be a father," Will reassured her, "I'm just not sure we're doing the right thing."

"When your mum passed away, how old were you?"

"42."

"And were you ready?"

"No," he admitted, shaking his head.

"Right," she nodded, "and I don't even have to ask about your father because I was there that night and saw how poorly you dealt with his death. So I'm going to ask you, when do you think is a good time for a child to handle the death of a parent?"

Naturally he didn't have a good answer to this question.

"Life doesn't come with guarantees, Will," Mac pointed out. "We can't live a life of what ifs and maybes. Jim's been shot and I got stabbed and yet you see neither one of us wearing Kevlar all the time. You passed your medical check-up last month with flying colours. You don't have what your dad had and, if we watch your cholesterol, there's no reason for us to assume you're not going to live a long and healthy life. And if that doesn't ease your neurotic mind, we can always move to Japan where life expectancy is the highest."

"Sloan can be our live-in translator," Will played along.

"You'd love that so the two of you can discuss economics all day," she protested.

"Honey, the only woman I want to spend all day every day with is you," Will leaned in and kissed her. "I do love you with all my heart."

"I love you, too," she kissed him back. "Are we good?"

"Yeah," he smiled and pecked her lips again. "Though I should probably warn you that I'm going to freak out a couple more times as we go down this road."

"Fair enough," she grinned and nibbled his lips. "You might wanna use your time in here to quit smoking, too, because I sure as hell won't let you smoke around our kid."

* * *

By Labor Day weekend, things had only gotten marginally better in New Orleans. Residents were evacuated from the Superdome and convention center, but rumors about violence on the streets were abound. They had made a small hotel near Canal Street their base camp. Only a few rooms had intact window panes, and predictably, none of them were on floors with electricity. Saturday morning found them on the ballroom floor with the other guests and journalists at an impromptu breakfast. Word had quickly gotten around on all floors that an anonymous benefactor had dropped off stale croissants and bread, and instant coffee and tea. It was the best damn meal any of them had all week.

"Wes and Stacy will go back to the convention center and the Superdome to follow up on the evacuation efforts," Mackenzie started to assign tasks for the day.

"I want us to follow up on the reports of violence like we talked about the other day," Will reminded her. "Let's not play the race card without prior confirmation."

Mac nodded as she took a hearty bite from her croissant, a welcome departure from usual diet consisting of beef jerky, crisps and chocolate bars procured from broken vending machines throughout the city. Stores had been emptied out a long time ago.

"Paul can you try and get us some aerial footage re-assessing the damage for our show?" she turned to her colleague, "Check up on the repair progress and get us a confirmation when they'll be able to start pumping water out of the city. I want to do some side by side comparison soon."

"Sure can do. Want me to get in touch with graphics back home later in the evening?"

"That would be great. Will's reporting on location for a weekend special on Katrina tonight, so let's make sure we meet here again by 5pm at the latest to figure out what kind of segment we want and can do. Any questions?" They all shook their heads. "Then let's go!"

They gathered their things and got rid of their trash. Wesley made a poignant observation about the absurdity that they were recycling in the hotel lobby when outside all kinds of garbage floated in the street. He and Paul carried their equipment ahead of them to their truck while Stacy checked in with their colleagues before they headed out for the day.

Mackenzie heard Will's subtle groan and looked at him concerned, "You ok?"

"Yeah," he rubbed his head, "just a little headache." 

She knit her eyebrows, "Do you need Advil?"

"Nah," Will grimaced as he held the door open for Mackenzie. The putrid odor on the streets almost knocked the breath out of them. They quickly applied some tiger balm, even though its effects could barely counteract the force of the sickening smell anymore.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Mac tilted her head and looked at him concerned. Sweat had started to gather on his forehead, more than usual for him in the heat. "You look a little green around the gills."

"Who wouldn't in this stench," he brushed her worries aside as they walked side by side to their truck. Suddenly he spun around and hurled into an empty flower pot. Katrina must have taken the soil and flowers or shrub with her.

"Shit, Will, you're _so_ not alright!" She exclaimed and stopped. 

"What's wrong with him?" Stacy caught up with them and nodded at Will who was still bent over.

"Must be the fucking water," Mac rubbed his back gently. "God only knows how many diseases you've contracted that day, it's a miracle you didn't get sick sooner. I warned you, Will, didn't I? Don't get in contact with the water I said!"

"Yes, you did," Will moaned sarcastically in between bouts of sickness.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" 

He looked up from the pot to send her a death glare. Mac stepped back and held up her hands in surrender.

"I'll just let you finish..." she trailed off when he turned back around and retched noisily again.

"Ewwww," Wes and Paul chorused when they returned, "You okay, man?"

"I'm fine," Will grunted.

"He's anything but." Mac rolled her eyes, "This is a shining example of what happens when you don't listen to me. He just absolutely had to get a taste of that toxic... _gumbo_ out there and now he's losing his breakfast. I told you it's a cesspool of viruses and bacteria, didn't I?" She paused and frowned, "Or is it viri? That doesn't sound right. What's the plural of virus?"

Wes and Paul shrugged their shoulders.

"It's viruses," Will piped up, his head still hanging over the concrete trough.

"No one asked you," Mac huffed.

"I think he's right," Stacy interjected.

"Of course, I am," Will grunted, holding his head up to look at his crew, "when am I ever not?"

"When you're not heeding my advice." Mac retorted and put her hand on her hip. "Just go back to being sick," She flicked her wrist dismissively at the news anchor before she addressed the rest of their team. "Alright, obviously we have to regroup. Wes, you'll stay with Will at the hotel, making sure he doesn't _die_ from whatever he's got while the _responsible_ journalists among us go do the news."

"I don't need a babysitter," the news anchor objected in between waves of nausea. 

"If he's not feeling better by noon," Mac continued unperturbed, "I want you to call Jackson on the satellite phone and arrange for Will to get medical attention. I'm serious, God only knows what kind of shit he may have ingested and I don't want him to suffer any long lasting damages besides his obvious stupidity."

"For the record, I consider myself a responsible journalist," Wes interjected.

"You know what I mean."

"He doesn't have to stay behind with me because I don't need to stay here," Will protested. "Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be as good as new." The crew looked at him skeptically, the pale color on his face and clammy skin betraying his real condition.

"We don't know what you've been exposed to. There's a _CDC health advisory_ out. It's either staying with Wes at the hotel or seeing a doctor right away," she stood her ground calmly. "What's it gonna be, _William_?"

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Do you want me to go over to the Superdome and convention center to follow up on the evacuation before I get on the chopper?" Paul tried to defuse the tension between them.

"Yes, please, get us some B-roll from the streets, too. Stacy, you're with me. Will, be nice to Wesley. I don't want to hear any complaints about you when I get back."

"Yes, mom," came the caustic reply from the newscaster.

"Now you're grounded all day," she chirped back with a sweet smile.

* * *

"Where's Will?" Mackenzie asked Wesley upon her return to the hotel.

"In his room," he answered, giving her a look that was the visual equivalent of "Duh!"

"No, he's not," she shook her head, "I just knocked on his door."

"Maybe he's asleep," Wes shrugged his shoulders.

"You're not a very good babysitter, are you?" Mackenzie rolled her eyes.

"It was not listed under job requirements or prerequisites," he replied cheekily.

"Point to you," Mac conceded. "Will you let him know I'm looking for him if you see him first?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Have you tried the pool deck? Maybe he went to get fresh air or clean up?"

"Thanks!"

Mackenzie jogged up the three flights of stairs to the sun deck. Already from the hallway, she could hear the soft strings of a guitar playing outside and, sure enough, Will's honey-smooth voice wasn't far behind. She followed the music and found Will sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, playing the old traditional folk blues, "House of the Rising Sun." If he noticed her presence, he didn't acknowledge it. She went to the balustrade and looked at the flooded city, while she listened to him sing another stanza. He was obviously trying to work through his experiences in this mess with music.

Finally, she turned around to face him. "How'd you get the guitar?"

He squinted into the sunlight and replied dryly, "Went out for a little looting this afternoon." He never stopped playing, riffing on the melody.

"Not funny, Will." She stepped forward and, looming over him, blocked the sun.

"Oh lighten up, Mackenzie, I'm fine," he shrugged his shoulders as if to say no big deal, "I remembered that a couple of doctors raided the Walgreens for a makeshift clinic, so I walked over to the Ritz-Carlton and had them check me out. They said there's a stomach thing going around and it's probably just my immune system doing its job to protect me from any hazards I may have encountered in the water. The good news is I don't appear to have dysentery or cholera or any of the other scary diseases. I don't have the runs, there's no blood in my stool and I haven't thrown up since noon. They gave me couple gatorades for the day to keep my electrolytes up and told me to come back tomorrow if I don't feel better or need more. On the way back to our hotel, I saw a man with a guitar, so I traded the gatorade with him."

She narrowed her eyes at him an shook her head. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" She huffed and turned around, stalking back to the railing.

"Oh come on!" He threw his hands up in the air, "I was kidding. I drank the gatorade. I gave a street musician down the street two hundred bucks for his instrument, so he could get out of town and check into a hotel."

"You think this is funny?" She scolded him, leaning against the balustrade. "Do you have any idea what Jackson will do to me if something happens to you while we're out here?"

He waited for more tongue-lashing from her, calmly plucking the strings, but when it never came, he sighed heavily and finished the song.

Oh mother, tell your children  
Not to do what I have done  
Spend your lives in sin and misery  
In the House of the Risin' Sun

Well, I got one foot on the platform  
The other one on the train  
And I'm going back to New Orleans  
To wear that ball and chain.

Well, there is a house in New Orleans  
They call the Risin' Sun  
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy  
And, God, I know I'm one,  
And, God, I know I'm one.  
And, God, I know I'm one. 

Mac stared at the light reflecting in the pool while she listened to him sing. When he slowed down his strumming at the end, his voice started to crack. Will quickly cleared his throat, putting the instrument aside. He reached into his pocket for a pack of smokes and lit up a cigarette. She watched him take a long, deep puff and exhale the smoke slowly, relaxing instantly.

Will closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the brick wall. "She wasn't dead."

"Who?" Mac frowned, becoming alert when she saw the pain flicker in his eyes before he shut them.

"Mandy," he drew from his cigarette again, "Dijon's mom, she wasn't dead when I found her."

"What are you talking about?" She crouched down in front of him. 

"I found her in the house just as I told you," his eyes fluttered open and locked with hers, "but she wasn't dead." Mac listened to him intently. He looked so lost and distraught, he reminded her of a little boy. "She was trapped under a fallen beam. I tried to free her but I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't help her, she was too weak." He cast his eyes down again ashamed.

"Oh, Billy!" Mackenzie sucked in air and reached out to gently brush back his hair. "Have you been carrying this around with you all the time?"

He hiccuped, choking back a sob. Mac leaned forward and pressed her lips on his forehead. "Oh honey, why didn't you say anything?"

Will just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. His whole body started shaking as if Mackenzie's touch was the catalyst that burst his emotional dam. 

"I'm so sorry," he apologized as she gathered him in her arms. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save her," he mumbled over and over into her shoulder.

"It's okay, Will," Mac tucked his head underneath her chin, "it's gonna be alright." Her fingers ran through his hair soothingly while she rocked him gently. Once he calmed down again, he shared with her what happened inside the house. Horrified, Mackenzie listened to him while her palm stroked his cheek, wiping away his tears. This wasn't what they had signed up for. Maybe it was time to get out of this place before the city consumed all of their souls. You couldn't expect to teeter on the knife's edge forever without sustaining serious injuries. Will's cuts went deep through his heart. 

"What the hell am I doing here?" He pulled back from her and growled. "I'm a fucking news anchor! And before that I was a legal correspondent. What the hell do I know?" He stubbed out his burnt down cigarette, flicking the butt across the floor angrily. "I belong in a fucking studio. I'm not cut out for this shit. What the fuck was I thinking I could hack it out in the field?!?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she tried to console him.

"I failed her!" He roared in agony. "She's dead because of me!"

"She died because her time had come."

"That's what priests say when they run out of answers."

"I won't let you beat yourself up over something you had no control over," Mac looked at him angrily. "You didn't _kill_ her, Billy!"

"But I didn't _save_ her, either!" He yelled. There was a lull in their conversation as they stared at each other, breathing heavily. "I tried, I swear, I tried to move that fucking beam but it wouldn't budge. Not even a fucking inch. Buoyancy, my ass. Archimedes can suck it! There was nothing I could do."

"Exactly," Mackenzie put her hands on his shoulders and searched his eyes. "There was _nothing_ you could've done to save her. It's _not. Your. Fault_. You can't blame yourself for her death."

"God, I feel so helpless, Mac," Will let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes again, "I've never felt so useless in my life." Not even when his father had gone on a bender and threatened his mother and siblings when he was a child. At least back then there was _something_ he could do about it and stand up to him. Fight back.

"You may not see it like that but what you did for this woman might be the single most heroic deed of your life. You saved her son. You held her hand as she took her last breaths. She died as peacefully as she could in this hell, and all because of you. You promised to take care of her son. You listened, you stayed, you cared. She wasn't alone. That's not nothing. You _helped_ her, Billy, in the only way that really counts."

"How can you be like that?" He looked at her with a mixture of awe and irreverence. "How'd you learn to compartmentalize like that?" He shook his head impressed. "Do they just pull you aside in the London office and teach you?"

"No," Mackenzie smiled sadly, "you just learn to survive in extreme conditions as a field reporter." She ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "One of my earliest assignments after I made the transition from the general assignment desk to field correspondent was a plane crash near Lake Constance in Germany. It happened late at night, there was little information to go on initially. When the cameraman and I arrived..." she swallowed hard, "we weren't prepared. At all. Everything was in flames. Debris strewn around everywhere. Two planes had collided in the dead of night, one DHL cargo jet..."

"...one Russian Tupolev filled with schoolchildren." Will recalled. He tilted his head and looked at her full of sympathy, "Fuck, Mac, they sent you there as a rookie?"

She nodded, "It was awful. They shouldn't have to make coffins so small. It's gut-wrenching to listen to the wail of grieving parents in any language, even the ones you don't speak. But all of that I could handle. I just shouldered on, you know? What really got to me, though, was the small shrine locals and parents built for the kids at the crash site. Those are the images that haunted me the most. For weeks at night all I could see was the sea of stuffed animals people had deposited there." Her voice still caught in her throat, just remembering even years later.

"I know what you mean," Will sighed. "I haven't slept in days. Mandy's eyes haunt me in my dreams. All I can see when I close mine, is the dead look in hers. I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, still feeling her empty gaze pierce right through my heart. How can I live with that on my conscience? How do you get over that?"

"You don't," she replied honestly, "but as cliché as it sounds time heals." She confessed, "And work helps, the less time I've got to think about things, the better. Maybe you should talk to someone when we get back home?"

He scoffed, "You mean like a shrink?" 

"It couldn't hurt to see a grief counselor at least," Mac explained, "I think what you're experiencing is survivor's guilt. At the very least, they can tell you what to expect and give you a few tips for coping techniques."

"You ever tried it?"

"No," she shook her head, "I usually just talk to my father. He gets it. He's seen some pretty awful shit in some of the places where he was posted. Civil wars, oppressive regimes, you know..."

Will nodded, "Charlie made me see one after my marathon broadcast on 9/11."

"Charlie?"

"Charlie Skinner, president of the ACN news division." He circled his eyes with his index finger, "He noticed the dark rings under my eyes courtesy of a week's worth of insomnia and sent me to Abe."

"Did it help?"

"A little." He shrugged. "I don't know. The ambien helped with sleeping. Some days I think I'll never be able to wrap my head around what happened that morning. Fuck, Mac, I thought 9/11 was bad but it was nothing compared to this. I never got anywhere near Ground Zero, I was tucked away relatively safely in my studio for the whole time. I didn't smell burning flesh, I didn't inhale toxic dust. I was _lucky_." He looked at her pointedly. "What's happening here is a living nightmare. We've all but abandoned these people, leaving them to fend for themselves in this cataclysm. It's a fucking disgrace."

"I know," Mac sighed.

"Nobody could've ever imagined, not in their wildest dreams, the events of 9/11, so our lack of preparedness that day was somewhat understandable if unforgivable. The complete and utter failure of government aid on all levels here is a fucking crime. We weren't attacked by an enemy out of the blue, people _knew_ this was going to happen and did nothing for years, or too little too late to prevent it. And someone needs to go on air and say it."

"And you will," Mackenzie sighed, "just not tonight. You know I can't let you go on air like that. I'm starting to learn that part of my job description as your EP is to protect you from yourself, so I'm going to have to put down my foot and unequivocally forbid you from coming within a feet of a camera or microphone today. I won't let you join the prestigious group of reporters who lost their shit live on air this week, you're too good for that."

"So much for staying clinically detached, huh?" He smirked mirthessly. "What are we gonna do about the special?"

"I'm calling Jackson to tell him to scratch our segment." She struggled to get up already.

"You should do it."

"Hm?" She froze.

"You read the report on the Hurricane Pam exercise. You know all the details to ask the hard questions."

Mackenzie looked at Will pensively for a moment before she asked, "What would you say if I told you it's time to go home and get to the bottom of this epic failure of government on all levels?"

"You want to do Tuesday's show from the studio?"

"Yes, and I want our staff to work around the clock to vet information about statements by politicians, rescue personnel, FEMA officials."

"This tragedy could have been prevented. Let's point the finger at the people who didn't do their job and the things that didn't go to plan so something like this never happens again." He agreed.

"Good, then it's settled," Mackenzie looked at her watch. It was shortly after four, she still had a little time before she had to call George. "Play something for me, Billy."

"You know, nobody's called me that in years."

"You don't like the name?"

"Nah," he shook his head, "it's just the only other person in the world who's ever called me Billy was my mom. She died five years ago."

"Oh! Well," Mac smiled at him sadly, "then I'll stop calling you that."

"No!" He blurted out. "Please don't. I like it."

"Billy?" She grinned and leaned in, "I like the way you say my name."

"Mackenzie?" He let it roll of his tongue melodiously.

"That, too," she looked at him amused, "but I'm talking about my last name."

"McHale?" He chuckled, wearing a slight frown.

"Exactly like that," she giggled, "sounds like you're talking about kale."

"Does not!"

"Does, too!" She laughed, "It's cute when you do it. You're the only one I let get away with that."

"Is that so?" He turned his head and glanced down at her.

"Mhm," she nodded and flicked her eyes up.

They brushed their noses together and closed their eyes.

"Play something for me, Billy."

He sighed and rolled back against the wall, picking up his guitar again. "Nobody knows the troubles I've seen..."

"Something upbeat, Billy," she interrupted him.

He modulated to a different key and started playing Israel' Kamakawiwo'ole's version of "Over the Rainbow."

She just sat there and listened to him sing and play for her. It was the perfect song for this moment between them. Still, she couldn't resist teasing him a little when he finished. "That was wonderful, and I'm sure you know that Dorothy was actually swept up by a tornado and not a hurricane."

"Everyone's a critic these days," Will muttered and put down his guitar. "Do you think Dijon's all right?"

"Why don't you try calling his great-grandparents?"

"Nah," he wiggled his head uncertain. "They may not even be in Indiana yet. I don't... I mean...forget it."

"You know what you should do?" She tilted her head and looked at him intently. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "You should write him a letter and write down everything Mandy said while it's still fresh on your mind. You don't have to actually mail it. You can keep it buried in the back of a desk drawer. But one day that little boy will be old enough to ask questions and you may be the only one with the answers."

"You're brilliant, you know that?" His head lolled to his side, glancing at her. "You always know what I should do."

"If only you listened to me," she rapped her knuckles softly on his forehead.

He gave her a lopsided grin, "This one time, let me tell you what you should do, too."

"Okay."

"Don't call Jackson. Do the segment for me tonight and stick it right into Jane Barrow's face."

"Shit, Billy," Mac pulled back and looked at him irritated, "is that why we're out here?"

"Don't get upset..."

"Is that why we've been doing the fucking weather report for the last week?"

"You're mad," Will sighed.

"Damn right, I'm mad! You signed us up for this shit because of my stupid rant in the studio?" She punched his arm.

"Ow!" He rubbed the spot. "Sick man, remember?"

"Your arm is fine. So will be your stomach, I'm sure. Not much we can do about that gaping hole where your brain's supposed to be!"

"Hey now! You didn't need a lot of wheedling once you saw the Hurricane Pam report. I could practically see the word 'Peabody' light up in your eyes. I didn't exactly drag you here kicking and screaming. I saw an opportunity for us to work out in the field together and I took it. I didn't think it would get _this_ ugly."

She sat back on her heels, holding her hands to her head.

"I just wanted to give you a chance to be a field producer," Will sighed, "I'm selfish because I want you in my control room but I don't want you to have regrets, either. I was just trying to do the right thing."

"Remember what we said about you trying to do things for me without my knowledge and in the background?"

"That I shouldn't do it anymore?"

"Do you think you learned your lesson this time?"

"I would say yes," he smiled at her sheepishly, "except I know that I can't help myself when it comes to you. I just want to make you happy."

"Fuck, Billy, you paid far too high a price for my happiness!" She ran her fingers gently through his hair. "I never meant for you to get hurt like that."

"I know," he caught her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes, "don't let it be for nothing, Mac. Do the segment. Make me proud."

"Okay," she relented, rubbing her thumb across his cheek. "I gotta go now but I'll come find you after the broadcast."

"Okay, I'll be in my room."

She shook her head. "Sweet, old fool." She brushed her lips over his forehead before she got up.

* * *

"What the hell's going on down there?" Jackson didn't bother with niceties.

"Hello, George, long time no see." Mac replied sarcastically. "Oh, thank you, I'm doing fine, how are you?"

"Why wasn't Will on the air?"

"He's feeling a little under the weather."

"I don't think you understand the nature of this call, Mackenzie. I'm not calling as your former EP, I'm calling as the head of the D.C. bureau who needs to be notified immediately when one of his talents is out of commission."

"Yessir," Mac tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as best as she could. Stacy raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Don't get petulant with me, child," Jackson asserted his authority, "unless you want to demonstrate you're not up for the job of EP by acting like a recalcitrant teenager. Don't make me regret your promotion."

"Sorry, George."

"Now what the fuck is wrong with Will?"

"He ignored my advice and went into the water to save a little boy from drowning. Whatever's in there upset his stomach so he's been out all day..."

"Spare me the details," Jackson stopped her. "Has he seen a doctor? He could've contracted cholera, typhoid fever, hepatitis, West Nile Virus, or yellow fever to name just a few communicable diseases that can end fatally. If he dies on your watch..."

"...I'll be as good as blacklisted in the industry forever, I know." Mackenzie rolled her eyes. "A group of doctors in a nearby hotel checked him out and ruled out most of those lethal diseases you just listed. They gave him electrolytes and water to keep him hydrated, so his symptoms have almost disappeared. It's nothing serious, his immune system did its job well. The idiot went out and bought a fuckin' guitar off some random guy on the street so I think he's already on the mend but just in case I'll keep a close eye on him all night."

"He'll be just thrilled when you wake him up every hour to check his vitals," Stacy snorted from her bed.

Mac grinned at her, "That's what you do with concussions, I'll just watch him creepily from an armchair." Lie; big, fat, stinking lie. She'd be gazing into his eyes and lying in his arms but neither George nor Stacy needed to know that.

""What was that?" Jackson was yakking into Mac's ear.

"Oh great, I'm already looking forward to two overfatigued, grumpy bosses at breakfast tomorrow." Stacy rolled her eyes. 

"Nothing, George, just Stacy trying to to be funny."

"That was great work you did tonight; pushing Blanco's chief of staff into admitting red-tape delaying the rescue efforts, Mac," Jackson finally praised her work. "Jane Barrow will be green with envy."

"They told you about that?" Mac grimaced chagrined.

"When will you ever learn that nothing escapes me?" Jackson laughed. "I run the D.C. office now. I've got my eyes and ears everywhere."

"That sounds rather creepy but thank you anyway." Mac paused for a moment and turned pensively, "It looks like the rescue and evacuation efforts are finally gaining track. Maybe it's time to come home. We've got not one but two SCOTUS confirmations to cover now, one for chief justice no less, California might legalize gay marriage this week, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict might escalate again and elections are coming up in Germany. The world hasn't stopped turning just because New Orleanians want to get off."

"What are you saying, Mac?"

"I'm saying that Will and I have decided to do our regular show from the studio on Tuesday."

Stacy looked at her EP sharply. This was news to her, too.

"You wanna get out?" Jackson clarified.

"Yes," Mac nodded firmly and watched Stacy dash out of the room to inform the boys.

"I'm glad to hear that," Jackson sighed, "especially with Will being sick and the reports on violence increasing. I'll try and get you out tomorrow, Monday at the latest."

"Perfect." Mac thanked him. "Oh, and can you ask those on the staff in our newsroom who're sticking around for Labor Day to come in to work? There's a report about a FEMA exercise on Will's desk. Cover page says Hurricane Pam. I want everyone to read it and compare it to actual events. Then I want them to scour footage of interviews and area of the actual flooding and identify where politicians have deliberately lied, ignored or held back information that could have helped save lies. Will wants to do a panel when we're back. And he's pissed, Jackson. He's gonna ask them some hard questions and they'd better have good answers because, frankly, I'm pissed, too."


	11. Bridge Over Troubled Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter will tide you over till I'm back.

Will took Mackenzie's hand and rubbed his thumb over her rings thoughtfully. The manifestation of his undying love for her. A symbol of their union. "Did you call Catherine?"

"Yes," Mac nodded, "and she put my mind at rest."

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows.

"A little anyway," Mac clarified.

"What did she say?"

"She thinks it's most likely stress related. My period will probably return as soon as I reduce the stress factors in my life. She recommends we wait until my next cycle before we consider different treatments. She doesn't want to subject my body to unnecessary hormone injections. In any case, she wants to see me on the fourth day again for more tests."

"In other words, I need to get my ass out of jail ASAP," Will sighed.

"Not your fault, honey," she reminded him, "You're not a stress factor in my life. You're my rock through all of this, Billy. I couldn't do it without you." 

"Still, I feel like the world's lousiest husband because I spent my wedding night in jail instead of making love to my beautiful bride. And you were so pretty yesterday, Mackenzie. Did I mention that already? I promise I'll make it up to you, honey."

"You'll get your chance when we go on our honeymoon," she reassured him, "I expect you to wait on me hand and foot." She rubbed their noises together.

"And it will be my pleasure, Mrs. McAvoy," he hummed happily.

"Can you imagine? Two weeks in the Seychelles filled with turquoise bays, white sand and purple sunsets." Mac sighed dreamily

"Yes," he smiled, "yes I can. In fact, I picture you holding my hand as we go for a romantic walk on the beach at dusk." He moved between her legs and stroked her thighs. "I think I'm going to keep that image at the front of my mind till I get out."

"I have a better one," she played with the buttons on his shirt.

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded eagerly, "making love under the stars."

"Oh yeah, definitely much better," he grinned and leaned in, "I can't wait to take you on the beach while the surf tickles our toes." 

"Or how about in our private hot tub with over fifty individually controlled massage jets," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Maybe we should've gone with the Infinity pool instead. What are you gonna need me for..." he trailed off because she kissed him passionately.

"Can't get pregnant from jacuzzi jets, silly," she reminded him.

"Right," he grinned smugly, "I'm your man for that job. And if that's not the perfect environment for you to decompress and for me to knock you up, then I don't know."

"No pesky shysters."

Will smiled. She was spending too much time with Don. "No controversial whistleblowers."

"No twitter drama." 

"No nosy staff." For that, he received a poke from her elbow. "Just you and me."

"What you mean, of course, is just you inside me all the time," she teased him, "we'll make beautiful babies, Billy."

He groaned. When did they go from singular to plural? Mac licked her lips nervously. Their chests heaved as they gazed into each other's eyes for a long and tender moment. Will's blood converged back south, and Mackenzie felt her desire pool in her lap again. In a flash, they were all over each other, smooching like teenagers. She whimpered a little, as she pressed her body against his. Will's tongue snaked into her mouth, deepening the kiss. 

God, she wanted him so badly. Unbidden, her hand reached between his legs, stroking his erection through his cotton pants. His reaction was immediate. With a low growl, he bucked his hips into her palm. He cupped her left breast, brushing his thumb over her already hard nipple, knowing that it was the more sensitive one of her buds. She gasped out loud, feeling the tingles in her pussy instantly.

"I love you, Mackenzie," Will breathed harshly, as he pushed her on her back, "I love you so much." His lips nuzzled her neck while his fingers unhooked the clasp on her pants.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Billy," she murmured breathlessly.

"Oh, I can most definitely finish," he reassured her confidently and pulled down her zipper. He ground his erection into her crotch. "All this baby talk lately makes me so horny. All I can think about is different ways of being inside you and which one's best for you to conceive. Dammit!" He growled frustrated when his hand got stuck in her pants.

"Jail isn't one of them," Mac told him resolutely, "we're not conceiving our first born in a prison cell."

He hissed a little in pain when she tried to pull his hand out, "French fly, honey, these are nice pants."

"I know my ring got caught on your clasp," he winced. Carefully they worked together to free him. Wearing his wedding band was still a new feeling for him.

"So much for finishing before they're back," she joked, "we can't even get started."

"You're right," Will sighed as he put some physical distance between them, "this is the last place in the world where I want to consummate my marriage let alone father my first child. I know I owe you a proper wedding night, Mrs. McAvoy," he inched closer to take her back in his arms, "a sensual seduction with strawberries and champagne in a bed covered with rose petals and surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight."

"You don't owe me anything, honey." She scratched the light scruff on his chin. Yeah, he was definitely the romantic sap in their relationship. He sounded like had it already all planned out and arranged. "Let's face it, Billy, we've never been a traditional couple. When's the last time we did anything in the right order?"

He frowned, trying to think of a moment, but came up empty-handed.

"So we just had our wedding night the night _before_ our wedding day." She gave him the smile that would surely send his heart into cardiac arrest one day. "Big deal," she shrugged her shoulders casually. Then added a beat later, "Don't worry, honey, you were _amazing_."

"When am I not?" He wiggled his eyebrows smugly, "You know I'm always up for the job."

"There was that one time," she fired back amused, "in New Orleans actually."

"Seriously?!?" He protested, "You're bringing that up now?!? I was sick as a dog that day!"

"And whose fault was that?" She glared at him.

"Mine." He admitted sheepishly. 

* * *

Mackenzie knocked on Will's door. It took him a few moments to open it.

"Did I wake you?" She took in his ruffled appearance. He was wearing only his shorts, and his hair was tousled as if he'd gone to bed already.

"No, I've just been tossing and turning." He stepped aside. "Come in. I wasn't sure if maybe I'd misread your signals." He looked at her sheepishly.

"You didn't," she explained as she breezed past him, "Jackson reamed me out for not telling him about you or I would've been here sooner." 

"You're here now, that's all that matters." He smiled nervously and suddenly wished he was wearing his pants still, so he could stuff his hands into his pockets. Mac looked at him shyly, worrying her lip. They stood there for a long moment in awkward silence, waiting for the other one to make the first move. Finally, Will couldn't stand the tension any longer and took the first step - quite literally. As he closed the distance between them, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on the back of her head, while she gazed up at him. Mac wet her lips and raised onto her tiptoes just as he lowered his head. Their noses touched and both closed their eyes in anticipation of their first real kiss in weeks.

The feeling of his warm breath prompted her to automatically part her lips, waiting for Will's tongue to slide in. He didn't keep her waiting long and, with a soft moan, her tongue welcomed his inside her mouth. His kiss made her go weak in the knees, so she grabbed his biceps for support quickly. Mac felt his arms slide around her waist, holding her tighter, as he deepened the kiss. His hand moved lower to the back of her thigh and lifted her leg. He hooked it around his hip so he could grind his growing erection into her crotch.

"Mmmm," Mackenzie melted into his arms. "I've missed this." 

"You could have it every night," he reminded her.

"We've been over this, Will," she sighed and rested their foreheads together, "I don't want people in the industry thinking I'm sleeping my way to the top."

"You know that's not why I asked you to be my new EP, don't you?" He dropped her leg again.

"Of course, I do." She nibbled on her lower lip, "But that's what it's gonna look like to everyone else."

"Nobody knows we've slept together. What if we saw each other secretly for a few months before we made it official? Then it would look like we fell in love after your promotion."

"Are you seriously suggesting we could pull off a secret office romance... successfully... in a newsroom full of investigative reporters?!?" She pulled back and looked at him amused.

"Well, when you put it like that..." Will sighed, dropping his arms, "I'd fire each and every one of them for not doing their jobs."

"Let's not contribute to the rising unemployment rate in the nation's capital," she replied dryly.

"Then what do you want me to do, Mackenzie?" He threw his hands in the air. "I can't turn off my feelings for you over night. It's not like flipping a fuckin' light switch."

"I know, Will. Do you think this is easy for me? I like you, Billy, but we haven't been seeing each other long enough for me to be sure about..."

"You were more than an office fling," he interrupted her, "you _have_ to know that. I'd never risk everything we've built together in our newsroom over the last two years for a meaningless affair. Please, tell me you know that you mean more to me than that."

"Of course, I do." She cupped his cheeks, "Even though I used you to get back at Brian in the beginning, you weren't just an itch I had to scratch either. But the truth is we both know it's too soon to speak of love."

"Stupid Andrews and his fucking timing!" Will groaned. "He couldn't have waited another month or two for us to figure out how we feel about each other?"

"Maybe if you weren't my boss and I wasn't on the rebound, I'd say to hell with them, let's see where this leads to but I _have_  just come out of a bad longterm relationship and my judgment _can't_ be trusted right now and more likely than not I _am_ going to fuck this up and have it blow up in my face..." She rambled on. "This was a mistake! I shouldn't have come here. I'm only making things harder on us." She let go of him and turned to leave.

"Don't go!" He quickly caught her hand and pulled her back. 

"We can't see each other after tonight, Will." He nodded. "We can't inflict that kind of pain on each other, we have to move on."

"Okay," he whispered and captured her lips in a searing kiss, "but first I believe I still owe you a show and tell about how Southern Gentlemen make love?"

She choked back a mix between a laughter and a sob and looked up at him to find him wearing a lopsided grin, "Finally gotten around to reading that chapter in your Southern style handbook or whatever it's called?"

"The Southern Gentleman's Guide To Dating, and technically it's a website. Well, blog is, I think, what the cool kids call it."

"Are you kidding me?" She gaped at him. "That's a real thing? I thought you were making it up!"

"Would I be cracking jokes about dating you while I'm at a serious risk for an eye infection?" He shook his head.

"So," her fingers trailed down his chest hair to his stomach, "how does the Southern Gentleman make love?" She bit her lips and flicked her eyes back and forth between his bulge and eyes. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy? No wait, that would be for Southern Belles," she grinned mischievously.

"Did you just call dibs on being on top tonight?" He teased her in between a rush of sloppy kisses.

"I'll have you know that I'm an excellent equestrian." She poked her finger into his chest, causing him to stumble clumsily backwards. "You're about to shag a Cambridge Halfblue."

"I have no idea what any of those words mean but it sounds positively naughty." His legs hit the end of the bed and he plopped down with a heavy breath.

"It means I've kicked Oxford Riding Club's arse three times in a row in Varsity matches and hold the current record for the unofficial Oxbridge Steeplechase Hunt." Mac climbed into his lap and pushed him back into the covers. She raked her fingers over his well-toned chest.

"Course you do," Will muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I saw that." She dug her fingernails into his skin until he hissed in pain.

"BDSM?" He looked at her amused, "Really, Mackenzie? Jumping the gun much?"

"You think you're so smug and smart, don't you?" Her lips hovered over his mouth - a ghost of a kiss. His raging hard-on throbbed between her legs, straining to  be released from his boxers. He was so ready and so very eager, she just had to mess with him a little bit. "I'll be right back." She let go of him and climbed off his lap.

"Wait, what?!" He propped himself up on his elbows confused. "Where you going?"

"I'm just gonna freshen up a little. I'm all sweaty and smelly from the heat outside."

"You smell and taste just fine to me," he tried to persuade her to stay but she already disappeared into his bathroom. The hotel room was already getting darker because of the fading sunlight, but if she didn't close the door, there'd be enough visibility to give herself a quick sponge bath. He heard water splashing and knew she'd found the bucket of water he carried up every other day from the pool.

"What's the point of cleaning up, if I'm just gonna make you sweat again in a minute?" He called out, hoping to speed up the process.

"You talk a big game, cowboy!"

He could hear her clothes rustle. If he craned his neck a little bit, maybe he'd be able to catch a glimpse of her undressing in the mirror on the opposite wall. He gave a frustrated sigh. The angle was all wrong. He let his head fall back dispirited.

"Come out and I'll show you my moves, Bronco!" He shouted back as he raised his hips, so he could divest his boxers. His cock sprang up, bobbing up and down excitedly. Will pumped himself, as he continued to wait for her. Mackenzie found a sponge in his bathroom and dipped it into the water. She ran it quickly over her skin, removing the thin sheen of sweat and specks of dirt. Will may not care but she did. She wanted to be beautiful and sexy for him. Well, as beautiful and sexy as a frazzled reporter in a wrecked city without plumbing could look. Afterwards, she checked herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times until she was satisfied with her looks. 

"Alright, Billy, giddy up!" She announced as she returned from the bathroom, realizing she hadn't heard from him in a while. "Will?" Concerned, she rushed to his side and found him lying in bed, no sign of stirring. Then his soft snore filled the air and she relaxed a little. At least he was alive!

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me!" She shook her head amused at the sight in front of her. He was completely passed out and sprawled out on top of the covers, with his hand still wrapped around his dick. She giggled and nudged his leg to make space for her on one side. If only she had a camera to document this ridiculous moment for posterity.

"Billy," she leaned down and kissed his cheek to check if perhaps he had only dozed off a little bit while waiting for her. "Wanna find out how Southern Belles have sex?" He didn't even flinch. Great, her mustang or cowboy or whatever was dead to the world. So much for their secret tryst. With a heavy sigh, Mac snuggled as close to his body as possible. She threw her arm over his stomach and draped one leg over his thigh - her own little personal insurance that she wouldn't accidentally fall out of bed in the middle of the night. 

* * *

The next morning, she woke up first and blinked sleepily a few times. The sun had just started rising and bathed the hotel room in a soft glow. Their naked bodies were twisted around each other, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Will was still out like a light. She took this as a positive sign that he was well on the road to recovery. He didn't have a fitful sleep, either. Maybe their talk on the pool deck had helped and his guilt wasn't eating away at him so much that it manifested in his dreams anymore. Or maybe it was her presence. Either way, she was glad he got a good night's sleep. Their body heat was becoming unbearable, however, and so Mackenzie slowly disentangled their limbs. That's when she felt his erection poke into her thigh. She grinned to herself. It was still early and they had enough time for a little morning fun.

Finally she'd have a chance to get personally acquainted with his cock. The last two times she had been banned to the cheap seats. Mac slithered down and parted Will's legs, ogling his long, thick shaft. It was nestled between a pair of perfectly shaped eggs and twitching. Her lips curled into a smile when she realized that he must spend considerable time grooming his private parts. He didn't shave his nether region but he definitely kept his pubic hair in check. Her mouth watered and her pussy grew moist.

She licked her lips and glanced up to check if he was still asleep. Her palm covered his beautiful cock, which twitched under her touch. Her fingers curled around his shaft into a fist and stroked him. He must be having a sex dream because a bead of pre-come gathered at his tip. She couldn't help her natural curiosity and dipped her tongue into the clear drop. Will whimpered. He tasted surprisingly sweet, nothing like the bleached flavor she'd come to dread from past lovers. He stirred from his sleep a little bit and Mackenzie paused, waiting for his reaction. But then his head nestled back into the pillows with a content sigh. If he woke up now, he'd insist on making love and she wanted to continue her inspection a little longer. Gingerly, she lifted his balls and felt their weight in her hand. They were full and heavy, which made her wonder when he had sex or masturbated for the last time. She took one in her mouth and rolled it around with her tongue. Will moaned and arched his hips a little bit. Seeing how much he enjoyed it, she gave his balls a tongue bath.

The bullpen grapevine had been strangely quiet regarding Will's sexual escapades since 'vampire girl' and she would've definitely noticed if he had hooked up with someone here in New Orleans. Could it be he hadn't seen anyone since their breakup? She remembered something he'd said last night but which she hadn't really paid attention to. It would look like we fell in love after you became my EP. Was that really how he felt about her? Did he love her already? After only one date and a one-night stand? Brian hadn't really loved her after nearly three years and she'd been so damn sure he was the one.

She didn't deny that she was attracted to Will, which came a little bit as a surprise to her. He wasn't really her type. Usually she fell for tall, dark and handsome. But there was something about him that appealed to her. Maybe it was the thrill of something new and completely different? If she gave in to her feelings what would happen, though, once the excitement wore off?

Will's breathing got heavier as Mackenzie's tongue traced the vein on the underside of his penis to the tip. He throbbed in her hand and oozed a steady flow of pre-come. She licked it up, savoring his taste. Her lips closed around his cock head and she sucked gently. He was so big, she'd never manage to take him all inside, she mused. 

His eyes opened drowsily. He wasn't sure if he was still dreaming because he woke up to Mackenzie giving him hands-down one of the best blowjobs he'd ever received. He didn't dare make a move or sound, lest he startle her and end this mirage. Surely his eyes and mind must be playing tricks on him because...oh, no, oh that definitely felt very, very real.

He watched her tongue lick his shaft up and down, then swirl around his head while her hand gripped him a little harder and pumped his cock a few times. Oh, that felt good. Will moaned and bucked his hips. She still hadn't become aware that he was awake now and continued to pleasure him orally. She kissed his tip again and let her lips glide down his head, pressing her tongue against its underside. She moved back up and lowered her head again, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' around his rock hard rod. Every time she took him in a little deeper. He watched speechlessly as inch by inch his cock disappeared into her hot, warm mouth. It was all he could take.

"Oh." Will's mouth went slack. Mackenzie glanced up and smiled around her mouthful of cock, realizing from his reaction that he must be awake. She squeezed his throbbing dick between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She swallowed hard a few times while her fingers tickled his balls. Oh, oh, oh, oh. Don't stop. Please, dear Lord, never let her stop. He slid his fingers through her hair, tucking it back for a better view. They curled around the back of her head, cradling her skull.

Mac's eyes flew wide open, betraying her slight panic. She didn't mind tasting men's cocks. Nor did she mind taking them inside her mouth. In fact, she loved it when they swelled and expanded on her tongue. What she didn't care for at all was their frantic thrusting when they neared their orgasms. Brian once mistook her for a high-priced whore when he tried to deep-throat her without any warning. It had taken all her will power to control her gag reflex; and - to add insult to her injury - his come didn't even taste that great. It was enough to make her swear off swallowing forever.

Will surprised her with gentle restraint as he started to guide her movements to show her how he liked it best. Relieved by his tenderness, Mackenzie slurped and licked and sucked his dick just the way he wanted. He didn't force himself on her and she loved him for that. Even when his balls drew up tight and his shaft swelled and jerked on her tongue.

Ever the gentleman, he warned her, ""Gonna come, honey."

"Fuck, that's hot, Mac," He commented on the clear string of pre-come that connected her lips to his crown when she released him with a loud plop. He whimpered at the loss but didn't complain. He was a complete goner. He knew he'd come with or without her continued stimulation. His balls were churning and his cock pulsating. However, Mac had no intention of ruining his orgasm and licked his shaft with her tongue. Will gasped and bucked his hips. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes and, fuck, "Here it comes, oh fuck, here it comes, ohhhhh." He closed his eyes and threw his head back with a guttural groan. 

The first spurt exploded so violently, Mackenzie squealed surprised. She watched the second rope fly through the air before it landed on his chest in a white puddle with the other one. "Oh yeah, baby, come for me," she cheered him on and kissed the underside of his shaft. Will could only moan incoherently as his cock continued to erupt like a fountain. His hands grabbed each a fistful of sheets while his head lolled from side to side. "Fuck that's sexy, I could watch you come all day." She cupped his balls and squeezed them softly.

He grunted and pumped out one last thick jet of semen across his abs. Mac didn't let up until she was convinced she'd drained the last drop of come from his balls. The dribbles stopped and Will growled when she wrapped her free hand around his shaft.

"Too much?" She stopped immediately and looked up at him. Will nodded quickly, still panting for breath. He opened his eyes and almost felt his heart give out when he saw the smug smile on her face.

"Morning," she greeted him huskily, "how do you feel?"

"Fishing for compliments?" He squinted at her amused.

"Not that, you idiot," she rolled her eyes, "are you still feeling sick?"

"Nope," he shook his head, "and I slept through the night, too, which feels great, so thank you for staying. Plus, I just had the most relaxing wake-up call in years. I don't know what people are bitching about, the service in this hotel is phenomenal."

"You look better, too," she chuckled, "you had me worried yesterday."

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you."

"That's not what I meant," she narrowed her eyes.

"I know," he sighed and reached for the sheets to wipe his stomach off.

"Shit, Billy, look at the mess you made!" She observed as she helped him clean up, "You come like a fucking horse!"

"How would _you_ know?" He laughed out loud as he pushed the dirty sheets aside. " _I_ grew up on a farm..." he reached for his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the nightstand.

"It's a figure of speech," she slapped his chest outraged. 

He just laughed harder and lit up. "I believe the phrase you're actually looking for is _hung_ like a horse," he mumbled around his cigarette. "But, yeah, you're right I'm hung and come like a stud." He gave her a lop-sided grin.

"Sex ed at the McAvoy ranch?" She teased him and plucked his cigarette from his mouth for a quick draw herself. He raised his eyebrow surprised but she just shrugged her shoulders. "I don't smoke," she informed him and he looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "I don't," she insisted, "I just like to share the post-coital fag with my partner when they smoke one in bed afterwards."

She handed it back to him and Will looked at her confused, "Fags?"

"Cigs, Billy," she laughed out loud. "We haven't been together long enough to explore threesomes but if you play your cards right..."

"No thanks, I don't want to share you with other guys," he shook his head and drew from his cigarette.

"Who said anything about men?"

Will coughed and spluttered.

"You're such a fucking tease, Mackenzie," he growled and looked down at his limp cock. If he were twenty years younger, he'd spring a boner at that mental image.

"So how old were you when you found out about the birds and the bees?" She stole his cigarette again and settled on his chest.

"Eight." Nine, when he connected the dots and realized his father's all too literal definition of husbandry also extended to claiming his mother like a breeding bull. Six months later, he snatched that bottle of Dewar's out of his dad's hand when he staggered drunk toward the master bedroom and smashed it into his father's face. Will took the cigarette back from her and drew a long breath from it. 

He smiled down on her, draped over his body, and ran his fingers gently through her hair. She played with the few hairs on his chest. She glanced up at him and he bent down to kiss her.

"You're so beautiful and perfect," he sighed. Mackenzie smiled shyly and cast her eyes down embarrassed. The endorphins must be starting to wear off. "Yes, you are. I wish you hadn't woken me up like this so I could show you how absolutely breathtaking you are." He kissed her again while she reached for his limp cock.

"But... you enjoyed it?" She asked, suddenly feeling insecure. She didn't really have that much experience with oral sex after all.

"C'mere," he waited for her to pull herself up until they were eye to eye, "I fucking _loved_ waking up like that."

She kissed him hard, "I fucking love your cock. How much longer till you think you're ready for round two? I want you inside me one more time." He realized she was straddling him now when she rose up. Her pussy was already in position, resting on top of his soft dick.

"Touch yourself," he encouraged her.

"What?" She looked at him shocked.

"Touch yourself for me," he repeated his request. "Show me how you like to be touched."

"You did pretty darn well the last time without instructions."

"Humor me, Mac," he begged her, "it'll turn me on."

"I don't know," she looked at him self-consciously.

Will sat up so he could kiss her. "You have no idea how pretty you are, do you? Your deep doe eyes, your seductive lips, your perfect tits, your magnificent legs. You're incredible, Mackenzie." She stared into his eyes mesmerized, soaking up every word. His compliments aroused her and she knew he must feel her pussy dripping all over his cock. They shared a sloppy kiss. The tips of their tongues teased each other, sending jolts through their bodies. Will played with a strand of hair as he deepened the kiss. 

"Oh my God!" He suddenly exclaimed and startled her. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"What?" She popped up panicked.

He held up his hand for her to see. Apparently a rope of come had found its way into her hair.

"Ew," she wrinkled her nose. "Get it out, get it out."

"What happened to I could watch you come all day?" He wiped his hand off on the sheets.

"Oh please, everyone knows what you say during sex doesn't really count," she lectured him.

"What?!" He stared at her perplex.

"Yeah," she gesticulated wildly, "your brain's all fogged up by pheromones. It's just your hormones talking."

He gaped at her speechlessly.

"Great," she touched her head, trying to assess the damage, "now I have to go take a shower. I can't risk anyone seeing me with your jizz in my hair." She climbed out of bed.

"Why not? It worked for Cameron Diaz!" He yelled after her.

"Sadly, you're not nearly as funny as Ben Stiller," she retorted before she shut the door to the bathroom behind her a little too loudly. He bit back his smile, waiting for her to realize her mistake. The door opened slowly again and an embarrassed Mackenzie stepped out.

"Shower's not working."

"I know."

"And it's pitch black in there."

"I know."

"Don't just say you know. Fix it!"

He finished the smoke and then pulled on his shorts.

* * *

"You have to hold still!" He warned her as he held the cup of water over her head. "I don't want the chlorine to get into your eyes."

"You wouldn't have to worry at all if you'd let me use bottled water."

"We're not wasting drinking water for washing your hair while people in this city are dying from dehydration." Will stood firm. "Now tip back your head so I can get started before the kids notice we're missing at breakfast and come searching for us."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I know how to wash hair," he growled frustrated, "I do it every day and still got all of mine, don't I?"

She bit her lip and finally acquiesced. He tilted the cup carefully to pour water evenly over her hair. They were standing in the bathtub to contain the mess as best as they could. The light was dim but he could see enough to rinse her strands. Mackenzie had to admit he was amazingly gentle and good at it. For a guy anyway. Especially handling long hair. Not that she would admit it out loud to anyone.

"Yes, but your hair is thick and you've got a full head of hair, which is just perfect for burying my fingers in it, by the way, whereas mine needs special care because it's so thin and my scalp's a bit sensitive. You have to use shampoo with a volumizer, and protein-rich _rinse-out_ conditioner," Mackenzie explained to him.

"Yeah," Will paused and replied dryly, "I'm just gonna use whatever they have here."

"I don't think you appreciate the special relationship a woman has with her hair," she glared at him.

"And I don't think you fully understand our current situation," he reminded her.

"I brought my shampoo and conditioner," she batted her eyelashes, "maybe you can fetch them from my hotel room?"

"Do you really want me to explain to Gracie why you're washing your hair in _my_  shower and not yours?"

"Good point," she conceded, "but her name is still  _Stacy_!"

"Who cares?" He already reached for the small complimentary bottles the hotel provided.

"What's a moisturizing lotion?" He frowned as he read the label.

"Nothing you're allowed to put in my hair!" Mac's head jerked around alarmed. She grabbed the remaining two bottles and studied the labels. "Here start with this," she held up one bottle, "lather it into my scalp gently but don't leave it in too long. Then you apply the conditioner," she showed him the other bottle, "which you leave in for no more than five minutes."

"It's just hair," Will muttered and rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Billy, five minutes tops! Then you have to rinse it out immediately," she glared at him sternly and he nodded dutifully. "I don't wanna run around, scratching my head all day because my scalps' dry and itchy. People will think I've got lice!"

"Okay, okay," he sighed, "just turn around so I can get this over with." He unscrewed the cap and squeezed a nice dollop of shampoo into his palm. Swiftly but gently, he worked the lather into her scalp according to her instructions, before he scooped up more water with the cup from the bucket to rinse it out. 

"Tilt your head back a little more, please." He placed his left hand on her forehead to keep the water away from her eyes, while he sifted through her wet strands with his other fingers carefully, making sure they didn't become entangled while he caught all of the suds.

"You've done this before," Mac realized baffled. "Is this part of your standard boyfriend package?"

"No," Will laughed out loud, "I used to help my mother with my younger sisters. I guess it's like riding a bike?" He shrugged his shoulders unsure. He'd hadn't washed a girl's hair since his youngest sister had shoved the bathroom door in his face with the words that she was a big girl now. 

"Aw, you've got little sisters?" She glanced up.

"Two," he nodded, "and a baby brother, although I haven't been allowed to refer to them as 'little' for over thirty years. They're very bossy  _big_ girls." He grinned.

"I have three older sisters and a brother."

"You're the youngest," he observed.

"Straggler, really. Don't think I was planned, although my parents have always gone out of their way to reassure me that I was a blessing and not an accident." She shrugged her shoulders casually. "Don't forget the conditioner," she reminded him.

Will reached for the other bottle and squeezed a generous amount into his hand. He warmed it between his palms, before he spread it carefully over her head. This time he took his time, massaging her scalp gently. He hummed quietly to himself and Mackenzie snorted when she recognized the tune from _Hair_.

"Mmm," she closed her eyes and moaned as his tender fingers pressed into her skull. He noticed with a satisfied grin, as her body relaxed, but his relief was short-lived when he pulled back his hand and several of her long hairs were clinging to his fingers. Oh shit, he was in  _so_  much trouble now.

"Why'd you stop?" She popped one eye open and glanced at him.

"Close your eyes and relax while I let it settle. Five minutes, I know, don't worry I'll check my watch." He wiped his hand off on his boxers, before she could find out. Now what? She was going to kill him. He needed a diversion for her, so he could rinse out the conditioner and hide her hair loss from her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her squeezing her legs together as if she... a lightbulb went on above his head.

He went back to caressing the nape of her neck where her hair ended. His fingers kneaded and rubbed her flesh until she squirmed and let out an obscene moan. Oh yes, they had most definitely crossed the threshold from pleasure to sexual. A shiver went down her spine. His hands massaged her shoulders now, his thumbs digging deep into her skin, smoothing out the knots in her muscles.

"Mmmm," she groaned and fell back against his chest. Will's fingers wandered over her shoulders to her front, grazing her chest. Her lips parted and he could hear her labored breathing. She widened her stance, as if to invite his hand to slide down to her dark bush. Will swallowed hard and wished he were twenty years younger. As it was, his cock was still out of commission, even if it gave a pitiful lurch.

"Don't stop," she begged him when his movement slowed to a standstill.

"Time's up," he croaked. Will cleared his throat but his voice was still husky, "Gotta rinse the conditioner from your hair."

She whined unhappily. He bent his head and whispered into her ear, "Touch yourself for me."

"What?" She gasped shocked. He just took her hands and moved them to her breasts. He kissed her throat until she started to play with her nipples shyly.

"That's it, honey," he pulled back, "play with yourself." Will combed his fingers carefully through her hair, as he diligently rinsed out all of the conditioner. He removed her loose hairs from his fingers stealthily and hid them skillfully in ball of toilet paper.

Meanwhile, Mackenzie had become more brazen, openly indulging in her pleasure. Will studied her movements carefully, filing the information about what she liked and how she liked to be touched away for later. Her fingers parted her folds and rubbed her clit lightly. He watched her fingertip circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves before she dipped her pointer into her pussy. Her skin flushed and her moans got louder.

"You're so beautiful and sexy, Mac." Will whispered into her ear. She turned her head slightly, gazing into his eyes. His lips trailed across her cheek to her mouth while his hand snuck between her legs. Her hand cupped his jaw as she kissed him hungrily. Will snaked his free arm around her waist, holding her securely in a tight embrace. His other hand ousted hers from her clit, which he manipulated expertly. He could tell from her ragged breathing that she was close to finding release.

Without warning, he slipped two fingers into her pussy and made her cry out. He kissed her to silence her screams. Mac's hands flew to his neck and arm for balance. Her hips bucked wildly into his hand, as he brought her to completion. He broke their lip-lock because he wanted to hear her high-pitched cries of ecstasy grow louder and louder while he fingered her through her orgasm. Her fingernails dug into his flesh until they drew blood but he was so engrossed in watching her fall apart, he never noticed. She was a beautiful mess in his arms.

"Don't worry, babe," he hummed against her lips, "I've got you, Mac." She was unsteady on her feet, her muscles limp and her joints like jelly from overstimulation.

She stilled his hand when her clit became to sensitive. Their tongues danced around each other in seemingly endless kisses, as they only broke away from each other for a few seconds to refill their lungs with air. Slowly, she turned around in his arms to make their necking and nestling easier. Will brushed her wet and tousled hair out of her face. They looked at each other for a moment, until she laughed nervously.

"That was so hot, Mackenzie," he reiterated as he reached for a towel and wrapped her into it. He put his hands on her hips to draw her in for a lazy kiss.

"I've never done that before," she blushed lightly and giggled embarrassed. 

"You've never masturbated in front of your boyfriend?" He raised his eyebrows surprised.

"You're the first one who asked," she said as a way of explanation. 

Translation, Will concluded angrily, she'd never thought herself sexy enough. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah, I don't think I've ever shared such an intimate and erotic experience with another man." She wondered briefly if that was what he had meant when he'd told her he'd show her what good sex could be like. The shrill ringing of the satellite phone startled her out of her thoughts. They jumped apart as their blissfull bubble burst once and for all.

"That's Jackson," Mac mused, "he's probably calling to check up on you."

"I'll call him back," Will dismissed the call, clinging to the last shreds of their love cocoon.

"You should answer it," she shook her head, "he might have important information for us, regarding our departure."

"You told him we're ready to leave?"

She nodded. The phone stopped ringing. They both sighed.

"Time to head back to the real world," Mackenzie said quietly.

Will nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm gonna miss you there."

"We can't continue this, Billy. If things end badly between us, our entire newsroom will implode."

"You can't know that we're not going to work out."

"Do you want to take the risk?"

"Yes!" He replied without hesitation.

Mackenzie bit her lip, mulling her decision over. "I'm sorry, I can't. There's so much at stake here for me. I can't risk my career again over a man. I already made that mistake once." She'd given up a successful career as a field reporter in Europe to be with Brian in DC. She'd thought he was the one and was willing to make a professional sacrifice to make their relationship work.

"No, I understand," Will whispered. 

"It's not you, Billy, it's all on me. You're amazing. So sweet and understanding," she reassured him quickly.

"Now that's a line I've never heard before," he laughed bitterly.

"I don't know how you can even still be single," she shook her head. "If things were different, I'd date you in a heartbeat."

"But they're not," Will reminded her disappointedly.

"No, they're not," Mac's voice quavered. "I really, really like you, Billy. You deserve someone better than me. She's out there somewhere, you just have to find her. I promise I won't flip out and go all _Fatal Attraction_ on you in the newsroom when I see you with other women. I do want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

Will wanted to blurt out that he had already found her! Instead he whispered, "You make me happy."

"You've made me very happy, too," she confessed.

"And I really, really liked you, too." He said and smiled sadly because, if he used the word 'love', he'd really, really freak her out.

The phone's shrill ringing cut through the silence again. Knowing Jackson wouldn't stop calling anyway, Will actually welcomed the opportunity to escape this awkward conversation and left Mackenzie standing alone in the bathroom. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It did nothing to stop the hot tears that started to trail down her cheeks.

* * *

A loud noise at the door startled the couple. Mackenzie had made herself comfortable in Will's lap who was now back on his chair. Their heads jerked around, waiting for Will's guard to return with Rebecca but the door remained close.

"Not much time left," Mac sighed as she rested her head back on his shoulder.

Will tucked her safely under his chin, "I know." He tightened his arms around his wife. "Will you be ok?"

She scoffed, "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?"

"I'll be fine," he smiled reassuringly at her, "as long as I know you'll be waiting for me outside."

"I'll be the first face you see when they release you," she promised him.

"I'd like that." He grew quiet and took her hands into his.

Mac bit her lip nervously, "Reese thinks you're doing this to win my approval."

Will snorted.

"You know that I think the world of your right?" She pulled back and tilted her head to the side to look at him intently. "You've got me, Billy. Hook, line, and sinker. I'm yours and nothing you could do would make me love you any less. So, please, don't feel like you have to put up a front for me to protect me. For better, for worse, remember?" She ran her fingers softly along his jawline. "I'm here for you but I need you to be honest with me. You have to tell me how you're really doing in here, ok? No hiding anything from me because you don't want me to worry. If we can't trust each other..."

"I trust you, Mackenzie," he cut in quickly. "And I promise I am fine. Trevor's been treating me with nothing but respect. He even got me a book and toothbrush last night." 

"Promise me you'll watch your back anytime they take you out of your cell. Somebody even as much as looks at you the wrong way, I want to know. Don't be smug, Billy, just keep your head down. It's only for a few days."

There was movement outside the door again. They looked at each other, knowing their time together was coming to an end.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, honey," she cupped his chin and kissed him passionately. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Our flight leaves Houston at 5.52pm." Will stepped back into the bathroom where Mackenzie was combing her hair. He swallowed hard and plugged the sink before he filled it with water.

"What time is it?" She glanced at him through her curtain of hair.

He splashed his face and mumbled, "7.20."

"So how long will it take us to get there? Five hours?" She flipped her hair back and cleaned the comb. Will eyed the loose hairs in it nervously.

"Give or take," he agreed as he retrieved the shaving cream and lathered his bristles.

"Something wrong?" She wondered about his shifty behavior.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out, "I don't know what happened. I was really careful!"

"What are you talking about?" Mackenzie frowned completely flabbergasted by his outburst. He looked at her as if he'd just realized the condom had broken last night. They didn't have sex, did they? She knew she could be a heavy sleeper sometimes, but she'd definitely remember if they fucked in the middle of the night.

He pointed at the comb. She look at him confused.

"I swear I did exactly as you told me. I don't know why your hair's falling out."

"That?" She gave a quick nod to the strands in the trash. "That's normal."

"I'm not in trouble?"

"No, I told you I've got thinning hair." She paused and looked at him amused. "Did you think I'd get mad at you about a few strands of hair?"

He shrugged his shoulders and peered at the ball of toilet paper on the counter behind her, into which he'd wrapped her hairs earlier. "To be fair, you have rather radical views on hair care. Ten minutes ago you sounded like you were gonna cut my balls off over a few strands."

"That would be a little drastic, don't you think?"

"I honestly don't know. This is the longest conversation I've had about hair since the movie came out in the seventies."

She laughed out loud. "What do you think I should do with mine today? Spaghettied or polka dotted?"

He just grinned. "I think it looks beautiful the way it is." He reached for his razor and pulled his skin taught with his other hand. Mackenzie watched fascinated, as he angled his wrist subtly but automatically, before he dragged the blade smoothly across his throat. She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she sighed relieved when blood didn't start mixing with the soap. With well practiced movements, Will shaved his stubble off. She perched herself on the edge of the bathtub to observe the spectacle. It had something oddly masculine and mesmerizing about it.

"I used to be you," Will commented casually.

"I beg your pardon?" She startled, embarrassed that he caught her staring. "You used to be a woman?" She teased him.

"Very funny," he sneered. "No, I used to watch my grandfather shave when I was little. I wasn't even allowed to have a knife at dinner and here was a man who held a knife to his throat every morning. I was around four when I started sneaking into his room to spy on him while he shaved. I was always quiet as a mouse, even held my breath a few times." He rinsed the blade in the sink.

"Let me guess," Mac grinned, "the mirror?"

Will laughed out loud and nodded. "All my stealth notwithstanding, I hadn't accounted for the possibility that he could see me lurking around the whole time. I was all the more startled when one day he called me out and nodded for me to come over. I thought for sure I was going to get a good spanking but he just hoisted me on the table and told me I was old enough to learn. He showed me the razor and made me swear upon my grandmother's grave not to touch it when he wasn't around. Then he explained to me the different parts and how they worked."

Will smiled wistfully, indulging some of his happier childhood memories. Mackenzie envisioned a small blond boy hovering curiously around his grandfather's legs.

"Over the years, he taught me everything: How you hone your blade, how you use the stop correctly, even how you make your own shaving soap. Eventually he let me hold the razor and showed me the right angle for the perfect close shave. I didn't grow facial hair yet so he let me practice on his cheek. I didn't realize back then how much he must have enjoyed this little ritual between us," Will paused in his movement and lifted the razor, looking at it wistfully, "not until he died and bequeathed his cut throat set to me." Will swallowed hard. 

Silence filled the bathroom. Mackenzie didn't know what to say and Will was lost in his own thoughts.

A knock at the door startled them both out of their peaceful harmony. 

"Yo! Will, man, you up?" Paul yelled. Mac and Will looked at each other wide-eyed. She was stark naked under the towel and he was wearing only boxers. The producer knocked again, louder this time. "Will! Wake up, man! Mackenzie's gone! We can't find her!"

The news anchor put his finger on his lips, signaling to his EP to keep quiet and stay in the bathroom. He went to answer the door. Paul stared shocked at Will's face, still covered in specks of white.

"Sorry, been shaving, what do you want?" Will asked casually as he wiped off the remnants of shaving cream.

"Have you seen Mackenzie?"

"Isn't she down at breakfast?" The newscaster played dumb.

"No!" Paul shook his head agitated. "We've been looking for her everywhere. Stacy said she might've spent the night here with you to make sure you didn't die in your sleep."

"She did," Will confirmed, "but after Jackson called earlier she left immediately to make arrangements for our departure. She went looking for you guys."

"We haven't seen her," Paul insisted.

"Then you must keep missing each other," Will shrugged his shoulders and pointed out the obvious. "Stop looking for her and stay put in your rooms. We're leaving in an hour for Houston."

"Shotgun," the younger man called it.

Will rolled his eyes, "I'm the Captain of this ship, remember? And Mac's first mate. You kids duke it out in the backseats."

Paul balked.

"I'd like to head out right after breakfast. I'm sure she'll check in with you guys once she returns from running her errands."

"I thought she's looking for us?" 

Dammit, Will cursed inwardly.

"Well she said she has some stuff to do before she left but that she'd go find you guys after. I thought she meant joining you for breakfast but obviously she's not done yet." Will lied smoothly and huffed irritated, "I'm not her keeper. I don't know what she's doing every minute of the day."

"Okay, okay," Paul held up his hands defensively. "We'll be in our rooms packing our stuff. If we're not there, we getting the truck ready, ok?"

"Great, I want to leave as soon as possible. I don't know how long the drive will take in these conditions. If we're lucky we get to Houston early and find a hotel room at the airport to shower and change into fresh clothes before the flight."

"Awesome," Paul nodded eagerly at the prospect of a real shower. He already turned to leave but then stopped in his tracks and asked the news anchor casually, "Did you hear anything strange this morning?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, nothing really," the producer leaned in conspiratorially, "there was talk at breakfast about a couple getting it on."

"Really?" Will looked at the other man disgusted. "The whole city's in shambles but that's the story you're all chasing?"

"Serves them right if they do the nasty and can't keep the noise down," Paul didn't share his boss's disapproval, "of course, people are gonna talk."

"Well, I didn't hear anything."

"Are you sure? People think it came from your floor."

"Yeah, but then again I was fast asleep last night because I was a little sick." Will crossed his arms and looked at the younger man pointedly.

"Damn, back to square one," the producer muttered disappointed and turned to leave again.

"Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Less gossiping, more packing, please."

"Yes, boss!"

Will closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. That was close!

* * *

"You're still dressed," Rebecca observed in her usual dry fashion, "that's disappointing." 

Will rose and Mac climbed off his lap instantly.

"I'm sorry, Will," his guard followed close behind the lawyer, "time's up."

"That's okay," Will nodded and pulled his wife into a deep embrace, "come here." She hugged him tighter and buried her face in his shirt.

"I love you," she mumbled into the cotton fabric, "stay safe, ok?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Will promised her as he swayed them softly and pressed a kiss in her hair.

"I guarantee you personally, Mrs. McAvoy, that he won't have any contact with the other inmates," Trevor reassured her.

"Good, I'll hold you personally responsible if he gets as much as a paper cut," Mackenzie was still a little feisty with Will's guard.

He just smirked, taking her belligerence for what it was. "I'll take good care of him for you, Mrs. McAvoy. Won't be long now until I return him to you in one piece. These cases never take long, probably be one more day or so."

"Trevor, turn around please, I'm going to kiss my wife good-bye," Will announced to his guard who cast his eyes aside to give them a little privacy.

"What, he gets a warning and I don't?" Rebecca complained.

"He wasn't the one hoping to catch us with our pants down."

"Fair enough," the attorney grinned but averted her eyes anyway.

"I love you," Will brushed his lips softly of his wife's mouth. Their farewell kiss was slow and gentle, milking their last moment for all it was worth. She deepened it and stroked his tongue passionately before she reluctantly withdrew her tongue from his mouth again. Her lips clung to his bottom one, sucking it gently because she was unwilling to part from her husband yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow,"she swallowed hard but the knot in her throat was still there.

Thinking they were done, Rebecca looked up only to find Will cradling Mackenzie's cheeks in his palms.

"Hey now, what did we say?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"No crying," she sniffled as a lone tear drop ran down her cheek. His thumb swiped it away, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he pecked her lips.

"I don't know what's coming over me," she laughed flustered as he pulled her back into a bear hug.

"Shhh, it's alright, Mackenzie, I'm here," he swayed them softly again. "It's only for a day or two then you'll have me back."

Rebecca and Trevor exchanged sheepish looks, feeling like intruders. Will's guard had seen enough of those types of scenes to know there was only one way out.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, Will, we really have to go now." Otherwise they'd be here until the 12 of Never and it would only get worse for the lovers.

"Yeah, I know," the news anchor dropped a kiss on Mac's forehead. "Remember," he winked at her when she looked up at him, "one day more."

She laughed out loud, "How long have you been holding that one in?"

"Since Trevor's comment earlier."

"I must say I'm impressed you haven't been bickering about your prisoner number."

"Gotta save some conversation material until tomorrow," he shrugged his shoulders, grinning at her.

"So on a scale from one to ten, how disappointed are you that you're not 24601?"

"Twelve."

She chuckled, "I'll see what I can come up with over night to help you overcome your disappointment."

"You know me so well." 

Trevor held out his arm. Mackenzie felt her husband slip from her fingers as he followed the guard's subtle order.

"I love you," she blurted out and Will turned around one more time.

"Love you, too, honey. So so much." He smiled at her.

Mackenzie mouthed thank you. He knew her too well, too. His little _Les Miz_ joke had just been what she needed to make it easier on her to let him leave. Her hand brushed her fresh tears aside, so she could smile back at Will brightly. Trevor cast her a sympathetic look as he put his hand on the back of her husband's shoulder, steering him to the door. With shaky breath, she watched her husband walk out of the room. She'd never felt so alone in this world as she did when the heavy door fell into the lock behind Will. 


	12. City of New Orleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little (okay, a lot) news research-heavy but I hope you'll see where I'm going with this at the end.

Tuesday morning Mac walked into the bullpen and found her staff in a frenzy. She lingered in the door, keeping in the background, so she could take in the frantic activity in her newsroom. Yes. Her newsroom. Well, technically it was still Will's, since he was the managing editor, but they had agreed to lead their staff together as a team.

"Where are we on the meaning, guys?" Kristen called out, cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek.

"Working on it," Frank yelled, "internet connection sucks this morning."

"Any luck finding out where they came from?" Mark stood up from behind his desk and looked at the science editor.

"No," Deb shook her head and hung up her phone, "security says they don't have any records about it."

Damn, those kids made her proud. Most of them had been hired straight out of college, cutting their teeth in this newsroom under Jackson and Will. Either she had missed a breaking news alert while she rode the Metro, or Will had already spilled the beans about their planned Katrina post-mortem. Mackenzie checked her blackberry quickly; nope, all quiet on the western front. She watched the reporters dash back and forth between computer screens and printers, waving print outs triumphantly.

"Here," Mark tossed Debra the phone book, "make a list of every store and then split it with Stacy."

"I'll take A through K," Stacy offered immediately.

"Do you think it could be a prince?" Deb wondered out loud, "She is from England after all."

"Well, whoever her secret admirer is, he's playing it close to the vest," Wesley concluded. 

"He couldn't have sent a bunch of red roses to make it easier for us," Kristen complained, "which reminds me, boys, what's the twenty on the flower ID?"

"Getting there," Frank whisked around in his chair, tapping his pencil on his thigh, as he stared at Mackenzie's desk. "It's really hard to search for something you don't know the word for. It would be a lot easier if we could just snap a photo of the bouquet and google it."

Mac frowned confused. What the hell was everyone working on?

"Well, hurry, we don't have all day." Stacy pointed out.

"Do you think it could be Brian asking her back?" Wesley tipped his fingers against his lips.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Mac stepped forward and all activities halted. The only movement in the room was that of their eyes, which involuntarily peered at the reason for the morning frenzy in the bullpen. There, on Mackenzie's desk, sat a ridiculously huge bouquet of flowers, which had - unbeknownst to her staff - Will's handwriting all over it.

"Well, not everyone all at once," the EP crossed her arms displeased. Nobody uttered a word. "Fine, I've seen enough. Everybody back to work." She dismissed them. "Rundown's in fifteen and there better be a botanical pitch about pollen allergy or something!"

Everyone stayed rooted to the ground, except for Mackenzie who headed for Will's office.

"Aren't you even gonna look?" Stacy piped up quietly.

Mac stopped, turned around and looked into the curious faces of her subordinates. "Seriously?"

"There's a card," Wesley smiled eagerly.

"Seriously?" Mackenzie rolled her eyes, "Are we really going to do this?"

The reporters nodded collectively.

"Fine," Mac huffed and walked over to her work station. She plucked the small envelope from the bouquet and pulled out the card. She smiled.

"What does it say?" Deb asked curiously.

"They're from a prince, aren't they?" Stacy looked at her excitedly.

"Dear Mackenzie," Mac read out loud, "congratulations on your first official day as the new EP of McNews! Don't fuck up, Will." She glared at her team, "Are you happy now?"

"What?" Kristen scrunched up her face and snatched the card out of the EP's hand. "He wrote that? What a dou..."

"It was between the lines," Mac cut in smirking.

"Says here, 'Dear Mackenzie, congratulations on your new job. You'll be a great EP. Looking forward to having you in my ear every day. Make me proud. Love, Will. P.S. When you have minute, I could really use some help with today's tie.' Gosh that's sweet," Kristen swooned.

"They're from Will?" Deb leaned over her colleague's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the card.

"Aw," the entire staff sighed collectively, glancing at Will's office door. None of them had thought of asking him about the flowers.

"Okay, that's enough. I want everybody back at their desks. Now." Mac looked at each and everyone sternly. "They're just flowers, I sure hope you'll show the same dedication to doing the news as you did for snooping around my personal business."

The reporters blushed and cast their eyes down embarrassed.

"Now, off you go," Mac dismissed them and headed for Will's office again. "By the way, your punishment is to stay late after the show. Will and I have something to discuss with you for Friday's show."

"Does it have anything to do with the FEMA report you had all of us read over the weekend?" Kristen wanted to know.

"Yes, but don't worry about that now. Get your pitches ready."

The crowd dispersed finally and everyone made a beeline for their computers. Mackenzie shook her head once more before she pushed the door to Will's office open.The managing editor of McNews was slouched in his chair with his feet up his desk, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. He was completely oblivious to the shenanigans that had been going on outside his office until Mackenzie waltzed in.

"Buy a flower off a poor girl, kind sir," Mac greeted him, using her best Cockney.

Will spluttered startled and scrambled to his feet. "Morning."

"Morning," she replied. "You have no idea the kind of flurry you stirred up with your little stunt, do you?"

"Huh?"

"The flowers?" She prompted him. "They've been running around like headless chickens out there all morning because they thought you're an English prince."

"What?" Will raised his eyebrow confused, as he peered through the blinds, and noted, "They all appear to be at their desks working."

"No doubt researching the meaning of flowers, trying to read some secret coded message into the bouquet you got me."

"Friendship, good times and new beginnings," came his rapid fire answer. "No secret there." He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, but the gerbera daisies can also mean 'I'll never tell'. So just in case you were wondering, no one's going to find out about us from me. I don't kiss and tell if you're worried about that."

Mac stared at him speechlessly. He'd put that much thought into flowers he sent her _after_ they broke up? Dammit, she should've gotten a better look at the bouquet Mrs Friedman "stole" from her. That must have been an entire Shakespearean sonnet. "No, I know that." Mac nodded and cracked a smile, "You're a Southern Gentleman after all."

Will nodded, too, and ran his finger nervously along the edge of his desk. They hovered in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, neither of them knew how to proceed from there. 

"Normally, I'd make a graceful exit now but, apparently, my desk's been hijacked by Martha Stewart, so I'm stuck commandeering half of yours." She laughed nervously, as she walked to the visitor's chair and plopped down dramatically.

"I'm sure HR frowns on employees receiving flowers from their bosses but I thought I might get away with it today, seeing as it's your first official day on the new job." He was rambling but couldn't stop it. 

"They're beautiful, thank you." She smiled. "Did you have to buy the whole flower shop, though? My desk looks like a prop from _My Fair Lady_. Martha Stewart called me about a photo shoot for a spread in the next issue of whatever magazine she runs now."

Will chuckled, "What about Jackson's desk?" He pointed out her new role and position in the newsroom.

"Oh," Mac's shoulders slumped, "didn't think of that."

"Stay," Will's hand grazed her shoulder gently on his way back to his chair behind his desk, "I don't mind sharing my office with you."

"Ok, so do you want to open with Roberts or Clinton today?"

* * *

"Alright," Mackenzie announced as she pushed through the door to the control room, "let's do this."

She took the headset Nick offered her ceremoniously, like the passing of a baton, and placed it around her head.

"Will, can you hear me?"

"Yes," He gave the camera a curt nod and Mackenzie an encouraging smile.

"Go!" Nick spoke at the agreed upon signal from Will. The whole staff had prepared a small slideshow for Mackenzie's promotion, with which they wanted to surprise her. The monitors began to fill with images of Mac: frowning at Frank while he explained some kind of weird gadget to her, snacking with Deb and Kristen in the break room, playing Tic Tac Toe against herself while waiting on hold, dragging Will by his ugly tie with a furious look on her face, flicking paper balls with Stacy, Wes and Paul across the table during boring HR training sessions, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jackson in the control room, engaging in a silent stare down with Ben over a guest he booked, and many, many more. The stills were accompanied by the theme song from the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Suddenly the monitors switched to Will's studio feed and showed him reaching for something under his desk. Bastard was in on the whole thing. He produced a hat out of nowhere and twirled it in the air over his head, just like the iconic image from the TV show's opening sequence.

"You're a riot, McAvoy," Mac's sniffles took the acerbity out of her tone, "Bastards are gonna make me cry on my first day at work!"

"30 seconds," Nick warned everyone.

"Okay," Mac took a deep breath, "Do the news for me, Will."

* * *

"Thank you for staying late, everyone," Will opened their evening meeting.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did we?" Frank glared at Mackenzie.

Will quirked an eyebrow and looked at his second in command amused.

"Punishment for poking their noses into things that are none of their business," Mac shrugged her shoulders.

"The flowers," Will nodded. "Yeah, I don't think anybody will have time for more shenanigans this week. Mackenzie and I are planning a Katrina post-mortem for Friday. I expect everyone to focus on the Friday panel when they're not working on the current show."

"Does that have anything to do with the homework you gave us over the weekend?" Kristen wanted to know.

"Yes," Mac jumped in. "All of us who were in NOLA were horrified by the complete breakdown of command structure and lack of effective communication. Will and I've read FEMA's report on the Hurricane Pam exercise and, now that you've studied it, too, we all know that a lot of the human tragedy could've been prevented." The EP picked up her copy of the package Don had compiled for everyone for tonight's meeting.

"Since we don't have a lot of time to pull it off, we're breaking out into teams. Mark will co-ordinate the interns and assistants who'll do all the grunt work for whatever research you need."

Will's assistant nodded dutifully, "Don and I went ahead during the broadcast and created packages for everyone." Mac waved her copy, which prompted everyone to thumb through theirs. "It starts with a summary of the Pam exercise with a contact list for everyone involved. We've also included diagrams of the levees, though they're only approximations we've found on the internet because there wasn't enough time to request copies of the originals. The interns have started cataloguing statements from various politicians regarding the crisis but obviously it's an ongoing job. We talked to IT and they helped us build a database to make it easier for you to search for specific keywords. It should be up and running tomorrow morning."

"Thanks Mark," Will nodded and addressed his staff as a group. "When you contact people make sure they understand Friday's panel's not about singling out anyone individually for blame or otherwise nobody will want to come on. This is an investigation into all levels of government and they all fucked up."

Mac added, "But it's important to make it clear in pre-interviews that Will will ask them tough questions, so they know they won't get away with trite soundbites."

Ben smacked his lips and shook his head. "We're not gonna be able to get the people we want for this. It's bad optics to travel to D.C. for a news panel while people in your community are still suffering."

"No, I know that," Mackenzie agreed, "and we're obviously not going for Blanco, Nagin and Brown directly."

"Did you hear Aaron Broussard this morning?" Deb suggested, "He's from Jefferson Parish, I think, we should get him for our panel. He's raging against bureaucracy."

"Check your list," Mark grinned.

"Good, then get in touch with him right away," Mac pointed her finger at the booker. "I want people high up in the food chain. I don't want it to look like Will's bashing some pimple-faced lowly intern who got stuck with the short end of the stick."

"Can I borrow someone's package for a second? Mine's missing the flood management plan," Kristen pointed out.

"That's because there is none," Stacy pointed out.

"Are you saying there is no emergency plan in place to handle a massive flooding of New Orleans?" Ben looked at Mac in disbelief.

"And don't we know it," Paul sighed.

"Well, there you go," Kristen leaned back, "that's segment number one."

"Seriously, how can a city like New Orleans not have an emergency plan for flooding?" Deb rolled her eyes. "That's like San Francisco and L.A. not having a plan for earthquakes."

"I guess you'll find that out soon enough," Mac began to break out the staff into different teams. "Paul, why don't you and Deb do the segment on levee and disaster relief preparation. Make sure you talk to graphics about diagrams and flow charts ahead of time."

"I'm not an engineer," Deb protested, "I haven't got the first clue about statics and structural engineering."

"So?" Mac looked at the science editor unimpressed. "Talk to experts. I'm sure one of the numerous universities in this city have engineers on their faculty."

"And since you know more about physics than I do, so, tag, you're it." Paul teased his colleague. "Meanwhile I'll see if I can get someone from the Army Corps or the Coast guard to agree to appear on our panel."

"What I wanna know is why it took Nagin so fuckin' long to evacuate the city in the first place," Frank criticized the mayor, "when the exercise warned them that transportation is going to be a major problem."

"Wes?" Mac looked at the young reporter.

"On it."

"Take Frank and dig a little around Nagin's office."

"Ok," the boys chorused."

Will kept in the background as he watched Mackenzie handle the rest of the meeting. It was clear that the minions were already competing for the vacant senior producer position. Everyone brought their A-game to the newsroom over the next couple of days. Lunch breaks were spent learning about statics; Wednesday evening a local college professor stopped by to give the staff a crash course in structural engineering. Everyone stayed. Whenever the APs weren't busy preparing their segments for the day's broadcast, they were on the phone speaking to sources or experts, compiling statistics or researching facts. Mac seemed oblivious to the internal contest among producers for her old position. If she didn't make an announcement soon, he'd have to talk to her, before things in the bullpen escalated.

* * *

"You need to appoint your successor," Will commented as he and Mackenzie observed the activity in the bullpen from his office door. Their newsroom turned into a buzzing beehive as everyone pulled their weight to ensure their Katrina special would be extraordinary. Jackson was very enthusiastic about their idea since any hurricane coverage these days guaranteed high ratings.

"I'm kinda busy planning our big hurricane post-mortem," Mac looked at him amused.

Will nodded at their staff, "Their tripping over each other's feet, trying to prove themselves to you. They think the post-mortem is a test and Stacy, Wesley and Paul are the front runners to fill your old position because you put them in charge of organizing the panel."

"They're all too inexperienced for the job."

"Then hire someone new," Will shrugged his shoulders, "just run him or her by me first."

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Mackenzie asked him for advice.

"Nope, but I can ask around the different newsrooms, as should you. Managing staff is now part of your responsibilities and duties, which doesn't mean that I don't have the last word as managing director." Will reminded her as he reached for the door.

"I know," Mackenzie sighed and fixed Don. "Can you send him to me?"

"Sure," Will nodded as he exited. He stopped by the assignment desk and tipped the intern on his shoulder, pointing at his office. Don glanced in her direction before he reluctantly moseyed over.

"You wanted to see me?" He fidgeted around nervously in Will's office.

"Take a seat," Mac pointed at the empty chair. She waited until he sat down before she asked him, "What marks the official end of summer?"

"Labor..." Don started but then quickly corrected himself, "the autumnal equinox."

"Nice safe," Mackenzie raised her eyebrows, "but I'm on to you. Your _summer_ internship ended a few weeks ago."

"Not my fault corporate security's lax." He pulled his lanyard over his head and placed it on the desk in front of them.

"Cut the crap, Donnie, what's going on?"

"I didn't get into Columbia." He sighed and hung his head low.

"You applied to j-school there?"

He nodded.

"But don't US colleges send out rejection letters in spring?"

"They do but I was waitlisted at the top."

"And now you found out you didn't make the cut," Mac nodded in understanding.

"I was so sure I'd get in, I didn't really make plans beyond school. That's why I applied for the summer internship only."

Mackenzie sighed, "I'm sorry, Donnie, but we've got no openings. All our paid interns have already extended for another year, which speaks for the great work environment George and I have created over the past two years, but sadly it means I've got no spot for you."

"That's okay," Don shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't know where to go. The rent on my apartment is paid until the end of the month and job prospects are dire. I figured better come into the newsroom than mope around in my underwear all day."

"When is the autumnal equinox?" Mac placed her hand over his.

"Err... The twenty-first? Second? Twenty-third?" He sighed, "I don't know."

"Well, figure it out because that's about as long as you got. I'm not sure I can keep up the charade over the definition of summer with Will and Jackson beyond that."

"Thanks, Mac." Don smiled at her. She'd just bought him another fifteen days or so to come up with a plan for his foreseeable future.

* * *

When Mackenzie and Will arrived at the office Friday morning, the entire staff was already there, working on the A-Block. The news anchor sent his EP a knowing look, reminding her that she still had to make a decision regarding her successor.

Mac rolled her eyes at Will and mouthed 'next week,' as they walked into his office.

"Did you lock the kids in overnight?" Jackson startled them with his question, since neither one expected to see their boss in Will's office so early.

"No," Mac sighed, "they're just competing for the opening of senior editor."

"That's why I'm here, Mac."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." Mac muttered. "Look, I know the position needs to be filled ASAP but my head's been elsewhere with Katrina over the last few weeks."

"Consider this a friendly reminder, Mac," Jackson used the same kind of tone he had when she talked to him over the phone in New Orleans after he found out Will had become sick.

"I'll let you know by end of next week, ok?" 

"Good," Jackson rose from Will's chair. "I snuck a peek at your rundown. Looks good, great really, I can't wait to see what kind of magic you pull out of your hat tonight. The energy in the newsroom is catching, I feel like I should go and do some important work." He bid them good-bye and wished them good luck with their show.

* * *

_Today i_ _s Friday, September 9th, and this is Will McAvoy with McNews. Half of New Orleans is still under water, one million people have been evacuated, and phone lines are going back up. - As the clean-up in Louisiana after Katrina continues, we assess the current situation with local, state and federal government representatives. But first, let's take a look at world events..._  

The staff was glued to the television set in the bar and asked the barkeeper to turn up the volume. The moment of truth had arrived as the camera cut to commercials after the A-block. Thankfully no major news broke during the day and messed up their rundown. Wesley, Stacy and Paul had stayed with Mackenzie in the control room to put out possible fires that might pop up during the broadcast. The rest of them watched on TV as Will carefully dissected the events of Hurricane Katrina, confronting high-ranking administrators with their failures.

* * *

"Joining _me now is Lindsey Walker, Governor Blanco's liaison with the state's Emergency Operative Center in Baton Rouge, Louisiana._ "

 _"Good evening, Will, it's great to be on your show."_ Walker greeted the anchor.

Will opened with a soft question, _"Lindsey, can you walk our viewers through the state emergency plan?"_

**Nick announced, "Graphics 22 and 23?"**

**"Ready," Dax confirmed as he loaded the flow chart for the Lousiana Emergency Plan up to the monitor.**

" _Sure_ ," the crisis manager said chipper, " _As soon as we received word that Katrina would make landfall sixty miles from Louisiana Friday night, we began evacuations in the low lying parishes immediately the next morning. We have to wait that long to make sure we don't waste resources, in case the Hurricane makes landfall elsewhere, so we won't need to redeploy our efforts. What we do in this case for the area of Southern Louisiana is make sure residents leave their homes in an orderly fashion to avoid mass panic. For this purpose we've divided the region into different zones, which are gradually evacuated. We begin with the most vulnerable parishes, to give those residents of the lowest lying neighborhoods a chance to evacuate before the heavy traffic from the city of New Orleans hits. So we move zone by zone, and in the case of New Orleans, the state emergency plan calls for an evacuation 30 hours before a hurricane makes landfall_."

**Dax switched the graphic to a zoning map of Southern Louisiana, displaying color coded evacuation zones and different evacuation phases.**

" _Which occured on Saturday at 1.30pm CT, when Mayor Nagin urged residents to leave the city,"_ Will added _._

 _"Exactly,"_ Lindsay nodded, as her face appeared back on the screen. _"Right, so once the evacuation plan is set in motion, traffic is directed away from the city, using all interstate lanes for outbound traffic to provide residents with the fastest and quickest route to safe ground."_

**"Back to 22." Nick requested and Dax complied.**

Will surmised _, "The Emergency Highway Evacuation Plan. Contraflow worked quite well but what kind of provisions does the state emergency plan have to help underprivileged and immobilized residents evacuate?"_

 _"As you may recall, Will, the mayor promised at the same press conference to open the Superdome Sunday morning for people who couldn't leave the city."_ Walker pointed out.

 _"So your plan is_ not _to evacuate the sick and the poor at all and force them to ride out the storm in a football stadium instead?"_ Will asked for confirmation, setting the trap carefully.

_"The Superdome is the only building in the city designed to withstand Category 3 Hurricanes, Will. It is literally the safest place in the area. It holds 70,000 people."_

Glancing at his notes, Will countered, _"The City of New Orleans Emergency Plan gives an estimate of 100,000 people without means of personal transportation. Do you see the math problem there if all of them converge on the Superdome?_

_"Of course, which is why the Superdome has always been intended as a refuge of last resort only."_

**"Gotcha!" Mac exclaimed cheerfully into Will's ear who winced almost imperceptibly on the camera. "Sorry, Will."**

_"Yeah, I'm sorry,"_ Will cut in, _"but, with all due respect, you can't designate the Superdome as your go-to safe spot for people who can't leave the city on their own and then call it a place of last resort at the same time. Under mandatory evacuation order, local governments are required to assist people who need help, making sure they, too, reach safer ground. Does your emergency plan have any provisions for that? Like pick-up stops for shuttle buses, for example."_

Lindsey Walker reminded the news anchor, _"T_ _hat's really the job of local administrators so you'd have to talk to someone on Nagin's staff. The mayor didn't announce the mandatory evac until Sunday morning, Will, when Katrina became a Cat 5 over night. By then there really was not much time left to evacuate everyone who needed assistance. There's also the cost factor. Directing people to the Superdome was really the safest and most effective solution. Nevertheless, Governor Blanco ordered extra buses from all over the state to get as many people out of the city as possible, considering the congested highway."_

_"That's kind of predictable, traffic jams, wouldn't you agree? Some people might find fault with the state's emergency plan and argue that 30 hours are simply not enough time to get everyone out of harm's way. Perhaps local and state administrators should work together to begin evacuating the sick and the poor prior to that deadline."_

_"Hindsight is always 20/20, Will,"_ Walker got a little defensive _. "Keep in mind that this was the first and only mandatory evac of New Orleans, so, of course, not everything would run smoothly. Maybe Mayor Nagin should have announced it on Saturday already, I don't know. These things will need to be evaluated by experts. We're working off a computer simulation model fro a training exercise in 2004."_

Will inquired _, "Are you talking about Hurricane Pam now?_

**Dax loaded Graphic 24.**

" _Yes_ ," Walkers voice could be heard over the image of the cover page of the Hurricane Pam Dossier that appeared on screen, " _I see someone did their homework_."

 _"Someone has to,"_ Will replied dryly _, "Can you explain to our viewers what the Hurricane Pam exercise was?_

Lindsey Walker gave a quick rundown of the training exercise, _"For one week in July of last year, local, state and federal agencies met for a FEMA training exercise, which simulated a major Cat 3 hurricane, dubbed Pam, which hit New Orleans. Scientists at LSU fed data into a computer simulation model that spit out a likely scenario, which we used as a sort of baseline to develop and improve our emergency responses at the local, state and federal level."_

_"So, in other words, every agency left with a clear idea of what its role would be during the evacuation, preparation, and aftermath of a natural disaster."_

_"Yes,"_ Walker confirmed.

 _"So what happened?"_ The news anchor asked bluntly.

_"Nature happened, Will. Katrina was the single most destructive and unpredictable storm we've ever seen in the region since Betsy. The scale of destruction simply went beyond everyone's imagination."_

The newsman countered _, "I have here the summary report of the Hurricane Pam exercise."_ Dax put up the numbers in bullet points on the screen, which Will read out loud _, "Experts warned that, in a Cat 3 scenario where New Orleans was directly hit, 60,000 people would die, 500,000 would become injured, 500,000 people homeless and 1 million would need to be evacuated."_

**Nick: Graphics 26**

The screen changed to a screenshot of Will's BlackBerry, showing a special weather advisory issued by the National Weather Service on Sunday morning before Katrina made landfall _. "I'm also gonna share with you an urgent message I received around 10am the day before the storm hit- like many of my colleagues - from the National Weather Service on my BlackBerry, which gave a pretty vivid and detailed description of what was going to happen:_  

> _... Devastating damage is to be expected from Hurricane Katrina, a most powerful hurricane with_ _unprecedented strength rivaling the intensity of Hurricane Camille of 1969._   _Most of the area will be uninhabitable for weeks, perhaps longer. At least one half of well-constructed homes will have roof and wall failure. All gabled roofs will fail, leaving those homes severely damaged or destroyed._   _The majority of industrial buildings will become non-functional. Partial to complete wall and roof failure is expected. All wood-framed low-rising apartment buildings will be destroyed. Concrete block low-rise apartments will sustain major damage, including some wall and roof failure._ _All windows will blow out of high-rise buildings._ _Airborne debris will be widespread, including many heavy items such as household appliances and light vehicles. Sport Utility Vehicles and trucks will be moved. The blown debris will [cause] additional destruction. The vast majority of native trees will be snapped or uprooted. Persons, pets, and livestock exposed to the winds will face death if struck._ _Power outages will last for weeks. All poles and transformers will be blown._ _The water shortage will make human suffering incredible by modern standards..."_

Will shrugged his shoulders, " _That pretty much describes the current conditions in Louisiana. It doesn't take a lot of fantasy or creativity to make the leap from this warning to the catastrophe I've witnessed last week; in fact, it seems to me experts predicted exactly what happened, so why was the state caught so off-guard?_ "

" _We didn't anticipate communication to break down completely. There were no landlines, no cell towers, even satellite connections were sketchy. We had no way to conduct conference calls and check in for an update with different agencies and parishes. We certainly didn't anticipate the breech of the levees. Overtopping from the storm surge, yes, but not the complete erosion of multiple levees so that 80% of the city would be underwater, making it impossible to drive and reach victims without boats._ " 

" _Excuse me, but didn't experts like Ivor van Heerden warn local and state officials repeatedly of the potential for vast flooding in the city? Power outages and breakdown of infrastructure frequently go kind of hand-in-hand together with natural disasters. Shouldn't your state emergency plan account for that possibility and put a back-up communications system in place?_ "

" _It's not like we did nothing, Will,_ " Lindsey Walker became indignant, " _Governor Blanco ordered 68 school buses to begin evacuating survivors right away. Over 7,000 members of the National Guard began rescue efforts immediately, along with police and the Coast Guard. We were handling the situation, according to the state emergency plan._ "

" _Except, you were dropping off the survivors at the Superdome, correct?_ " Will interjected.

" _Yes, it was one of the few dry areas in the city. We thought we had stored enough food, water, ice and medical supplies in there to last 15,000 people for a minimum of three days. We had simply not anticipated the large influx of people who hunkered down there. It seemed the logical drop-off spot for rescued residents._ "

" _You mean the absolute last resort, which had neither electricity nor running water, a leaky roof on top of it, and was slowly running out of food and water and medical supplies for the 15,000 already trapped there? You don't have to be Russell Crowe in_ A Beautiful Mind _to figure that math problem out._ "

 **"Curb your sarcasm, Billy, you're doing well as is."** Mac advised him.

" _We didn't know that at the time, Will. It was Monday evening. Like I said, communication was out and we were operating under the assumption that we'd just plug a few holes and pump out the water from the rainfall and the storm surge._ "

" _Even though New Orleans officials had already confirmed the breech of levees in three places a few hours earlier?_ "

" _Again, Will, without proper communication channels we didn't learn that the levees had broken until the next the day, when we saw the rising water level with our own eyes. Then Governor ordered the immediate evacuation of the Superdome, for which she commandeered hundreds of buses from neighboring parishes, thanks to her executive power_."

" _Buses that never arrived_."

" _We concentrated our efforts elsewhere when FEMA offered us to provide the buses_."

" _Where_?"

" _The looting_."

" _So you prioritized business interests over human lives? Why didn't you follow up with FEMA to ensure the buses were actually, physically, on their way? And, please, don't say communication was sketchy again because you seriously have to revise that part of your state emergency plan to get a grip on your command structure before the next disaster strikes._ "

 **"Easy, Will,"** Mac pulled him back.

" _We relied on the promises by FEMA. We thought they'd do their part and take care of any physical or administrative obstacles in their way to make sure they got through to the people in the Superdome. Meanwhile, the danger of looting for a community's well-being must not be underestimated. Looting leads to an overall increase in crime and violence, which culminated in attacks on rescue personnel. It got so bad so fast, we had to ask the President for more troops to help us restore law and order. We can't allow volunteer and professional rescue workers into the city until we can guarantee they won't be shot at. Your own colleagues from CNN reported that evacuees at the dome tried to commandeer a Chinook dropping off supplies_." 

" _I believe it was a Blackhawk that was allegedly shot at, for which we are still awaiting official confirmation from the National Guard. It strikes me as a little bit difficult for starving and parched citizens to try and seize a military chopper from the mangled rooftop of the Superdome. Which doesn't change the fact that people, American citizens, were drowning in their homes and suffering incredible human indignity at the Superdome and convention center, while a hundred yards away police officers were arresting a guy lugging a 60 inch plasma screen TV. Can you understand why people are upset?_ "

" _Yes, Will, I can; and I am enraged, too, that the federal government hasn't stepped up its game while we did everything in our power to keep the situation under control_."

" _Didn't Governor Blanco reject President Bush's offers to have FEMA take over several times?_ "

" _First of all, we can't just hand over command of our National Guard to the federal government because we need them to keep law and order as we see fit. Second, I'm not sure I want an agency that can't handle delivering a couple hundred buses within twenty-four hours as promised oversee the entire relief and rescue operation. The problem with FEMA is that it is no longer an independent agency, reporting directly to the White House, but that is has been integrated into the Department of Homeland Security, which has been prioritizing counter-terrorism at the cost of natural disaster relief. The left hand doesn't know what the right hand's doing over there, Will. We did everything by the book, they went off script._ "

" _Thank you Lindsey Walker from the Governor's office at the Emergency Center in Baton Rouge. When we come back from commercials, we'll be stirring up the hornets' nest that is FEMA_."

* * *

"Mac?" Will touched his ear plug and raised an eyebrow into the camera.

"Right here, Will, you're looking really good up there." Mac praised his work.

"Thanks, I just had an idea and I'm wondering if you could do me a favor and get me some facts about the Berlin Airlift by the next commercial block."

"The what now?"

"At the beginning of the Cold War, the Soviets cut off West-Berlin from the rest of the world. Faced with losing the entire city to the communists, the French, Brits and we got together to circumvent the Berlin Blockade by dropping supplies into West-Berlin from airplanes for a year or so. Seems to me that if we were able to pull this off in a foreign occupied country sixty years ago, we sure should be able to achieve the same in our own backyard now."

"On it," Wes and Stacy shouted, already tossing their headsets aside. Mac grinned as she watched the young reporters race each other back to the newsroom.

"Thank you."

"They're already gone, Will," Mac let him know. "We're in the clear time-wise but I want you to watch your snark a little bit."

"Okay," Will nodded.

"Thirty seconds," Nick warned him.

* * *

_"Welcome back to McNews. I'm Will McAvoy and here with me is a Region VI FEMA co-ordinator, Gordon Fletcher."_

_"Good evening, Mr. McAvoy."_

_"Mr. Fletcher, we've just heard severe criticism and accusations of ineptitude from Lindsey Walker, regarding FEMA's performance in the aftermath of Katrina. We've also learned earlier today that FEMA director Michael D. Brown was replaced by Vice Admiral Thad W. Allen from the United States Coast Guard as Principal Federal Official. Shouldn't this move have come sooner, given Brown's poor performance in the relief efforts, or better yet, should've Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff, put someone more familiar with the conditions in Southern Louisiana in charge in the first place?"_

_"Will, I can't comment on personnel issues but I'd like to go on the record right away and state that we had ten local relief centers up and running in the region by Sunday, a full day before Hurricane Katrina was expected to make landfall. We were in communications with the state emergency center and local parishes the whole time, co-ordinating supply delivery, distribution points, evac pick-up spots."_

_"In light of this information, my next question will be even more baffling: Where on earth were you all of last week?!?"_ Will could not believe what he heard. They were there the whole time? What had they been doing all day long?

_"We were right there, working at the front lines with everyone. Just because you don't see the windbreakers with our name on them, doesn't mean we're not doing our jobs."_

_"Why_ didn't _I see you guys with the FEMA windbreakers in New Orleans while I was there last week? Shouldn't Michael Brown have come to New Orleans right away to get a picture of the situation? If only for the sheer optics to reassure residents that the government hasn't forgotten them?"_

 _"Will, you have to remember that on Monday things didn't look so bad in the city. We all went to bed that night, thinking we'd dodged a major bullet after we saw the news._ _NOLA wasn't the only place that was hit. Undersecretary Brown simply chose to visit other sites in Mississippi, equally struck by Katrina, first. You have to remember that we cannot step in unless we've been invited by the state so we set up shop as close to the disaster zone as possible and waited until we were allowed to enter. Besides, the flooding made the city inaccessible for a while."_

 _"Are you saying that the director of FEMA lacked means and authority to have a chopper drop him off near the Hyatt Regency for a pow-wow with Mayor Nagin and a joint local inspection of the damages?"_ Will asked the FEMA co-ordinator somewhat incredulously.

_"It's a tricky legal situation."_

_"I don't think the 20,000 stranded people in the Superdome and convention center gave a rat's ass about the finer points of the Stafford Act while they were waiting for food and water in the sweltering heat. Shouldn't human lives be prioritized over legal ambiguities under such extraordinary circumstances?"_

_"We didn't want to create precedence..."_

**"He doesn't know you're a lawyer,"** Mac chirped into Will's ear chipper. **"It'll be like taking candy from a baby, just don't become patronizing."**

_"Weren't you automatically _invited on Saturday, the 27th of August, when Governor Blanco sent a formal request to the White House, and President Bush declared a federal state of emergency in Louisiana the same day?"__

_"Yes, but then on Monday, after Katrina had already made landfall, Governor Blanco made an official statement, reassuring everyone that things were under control at the state level."_

_"Which you interpreted as her saying she didn't need your help after all?"_ Will raised his eyebrows _, "So you essentially decided to just sit back and watch like a sulking teenager who felt he was disinvited from a party? All the while people were suffering in the Superdome and Convention Center for days, which you could've just ended but you chose not to? Out of curiosity, did you expect the governor of a state that had just been struck by natural disaster to create a mass panic by admitting total defeat in a press conference?!?" W_ ill asked in disbelief.

 **"What did I say?"** Mac took Will on a tighter leash **, "Curb your fuckin' snark, Billy."**

" _Will, there's no need to become sarcastic. The President offered the Governor to have FEMA take over operations in Southern Louisiana twice, but she flat out refused to hand control over to the federal government. Our marching orders have been very clear: Establish and maintain a positive working relationship with the affected communities, provide information and assistance as requested and needed. So that's what we did. It's not our fault Governor Blanco was vague, ambiguous and imprecise in her requests. She's simply completely overwhelmed by the situation and not a strong leader under pressure. I_ _n order for us to provide aid effectively, we need concrete instructions, a clear command structure and specific requests, so we can allocate funds, organize supplies and dispatch workers, not hysterical cries for more troops and some help the way we've seen in New Orleans._ "

 **"Don't take the bait, just focus on the situation at hand. This isn't the time for partisan politics,"** the EP instructed her anchor.

 _"Is that why you failed to deliver the promised buses for the evacuation of the Superdome?"_ Will followed up on his original line of questioning.

 _"Not at all, we delivered those buses,"_ Fletcher Gordon corrected Will.

_"Yeah," the newsman scoffed, "on Thursday, three days after Governor Blanco requested them. Where did you get them from? Timbuktu?!?"_

**"Don't let that smarmy bastard get to you, Will,"** Mac warned him, **"keep your cool."**

_"Will, you were there in New Orleans so I don't have to tell you that the area around the Superdome was virtually cut off from the rest of the world. We got the buses to the dome as fast as possible."_

_"Mr. Fletcher, isn't it part of FEMA's job to figure out these things beforehand? Didn't Michael Brown list this very doomsday scenario for New Orleans among his top three concerns when he took over FEMA a few years ago? Your organization planned and executed the Hurricane Pam exercise for Southern Louisiana last year for that very reason. So forgive me if I have trouble understanding why you were unprepared for rescue missions under extensive flooding conditions of the city."_

_"Nobody actually anticipated the levees to fail on such a large scale, Will."_

_"Are you sure? Because people around the world were glued to their televisions, watching intently whether the fragile levee system in New Orleans could withstand Hurricane Katrina's incredible force."_ They showed footage of international press coverage pre-Katrina where experts raised the question in interviews if the outdated levees were a match for Katrina and warned of the city turning into a soup bowl.

Fletcher commented on the news clips _, "You'll never be able to protect yourself one hundred per cent against the forces of nature anymore than you can against acts of terrorism, Will. All we can do is prepare ourselves for the worst and hope for the best."_

 _"But wouldn't that include an_ _emergency plan that takes into account the outcomes of a worst case scenario? Mr. Fletcher, what good are local, state or federal emergency plans when they only prepare us for parts of a disaster and leave the rest to luck, fate and God's will?"_

 _"Without them, the loss of human life would be even higher,"_ the FEMA co-ordinator was quick to point out, _"The brutal reality of our line of work simply is that we can't save anyone. That's just the way things are, Will."_

 _"What_ is _the acceptable number of civilian deaths for FEMA?"_ Will switched towards a more aggressive tone and provocative line of questions, the face of Mandy Gonzales etched into his memory.

_"That's a preposterous question I'm not going to dignify with an answer."_

_"I'm asking because your organization's previous conduct has tacitly condoned the loss of human lives, which could otherwise have been prevented. It's a fair question, given your statements tonight on our show."_

_"We've done everything in our power to minimize the loss of human lives!"_

_"No, sir, you have not! You could've warned residents of the breeches. Instead you let us go to bed Monday night, lulling us into a false sense of security, when you should have been driving through the streets with a megaphone warning everyone about the impending flood!"_ Will replied angrily.

_"Will, we didn't know about the breeches until Tuesday."_

_"I have a statement from Al Naomi here, who is the Army Corps of Engineer's project manager for the New Orleans levees, in which he says that FEMA was notified, along with the Emergency Operations Center in Baton Rouge, about the breech on 17th Street Canal around 3pm Monday afternoon."_

_"I don't know anything about that, at that point I got most of my information on the situation in New Orleans from the news. The message from Al Naomi must have gotten lost somewhere in the command structure,"_ Fletcher admitted.

_"That's a pretty important note to lose, Mr. Fletcher. People died in their sleep that night, they drowned in their beds. They woke up trapped by rising water, dying slow and agonizing deaths because someone didn't pass along a note in study hall!"_

_"As I mentioned before, we weren't authorized to interfere anyway. You have to confront Governor Blanco with your accusations, Mr. McAvoy. Our job is only to assist local and state agencies with coordinating and executing rescue and relief efforts as well as helping them with planning and preparing for potential disasters. Besides, maintaining the levees is solely the purview of the Corps of Engineers, who as far as I know began dropping sandbags from Chinooks almost immediately. "_

_"Quite frankly, Mr. Fletcher, I don't think the families of the dead care about political turf wars. Their loved ones are dead because, despite a training exercise practicing the exact same scenario that happened a year before Katrina hit, you failed to help the state and local governments implement a flood relief plan. But let's talk about the things you_ have _done instead of continuing this game of pass the buck."_

" _We've organized additional choppers and ships to help with the rescue efforts. We've been co-ordinating various rescue and relief organizations, keeping their volunteers and workers safe, advising them to focus on providing their services at the surrounding evacuation centers until the National Guard gets the violence and looting in the city under control. You were there, Will, you saw it yourself._ " Fletcher stated proudly.

 _"Personally, I didn't see any looting, nor did anyone else on my team,"_ Will clarified, " _I saw survivors scavenging for food and something to drink and wear because their government let 'em down._ "

_"Your very own colleagues at CNN reported last Wednesday that refugees tried to commandeer a Chinook dropping supplies into the dome."_

_"I believe it was a Blackhawk that was reportedly shot at. It would be a little bit hard for starving evacuees to seize a circling chopper from the roof of the stadium."_ Will corrected the FEMA coordinator _._

_"The point is, Will, we can't let the Red Cross and AmeriCorps into the city as long as their lives may be at stake."_

_"I assume that's also the reason why you opted to give 2,000 firefighters, trained in search and rescue operations and who volunteered for duty in Louisiana, corporate and HR seminars instead of letting them, you know, save lives."_

_"Well, you know what they say about the word 'assume,' Will,"_ Fletcher shot back _._

 **"Did he just crack a joke about people dying?!?"** Mac stared at the monitors in disbelief.

 _"I have here a_ USA Today _article by Greg Bluestein from the AP, which quotes frustrated firefighters, who are currently stuck in a hotel in Atlanta, Georgia, courtesy of FEMA management."_ Will stated matter-of-factly.

Fletchers face fell, _"I don't know anything about this incident but, yes, I'm sure we had good reason to detain those firefighters there."_

_"You mentioned earlier that you organized additional choppers. Why were they Blackhawks and not helicopters equipped to handle heavier loads so you could drop enough food, water and medical supplies into the Superdome and Convention Center."_

_"First of all, I'd like to make it clear that the supplies stored inside the Superdome before the hurricane were provided by us. So it's not like we were dragging our feet on this matter. There were enough supplies for 15,000 people to last for three to five days, until we could get to them under the worst of circumstances. Our timeline was correct as we reached the refugees in the dome around Wednesday night, Thursday morning. What we simply didn't anticipate was the sheer mass of people seeking refuge inside the dome."_

_"Even though the emergency plans you worked out with the city of New Orleans and the State of Louisiana listed it as a designated refuge of last resort."_

_"Nagin was supposed to evacuate as many people as possible, including the disadvantaged segment of the population. Unfortunately, the massive flooding forced us to direct survivors to and drop off rescued residents at the Superdome as well. That exacerbated the situation."_

_"What about the convention center?"_

_"The Ernset N. Morial Convention Center was never a designated evacuation spot. As soon as we became aware of people converging there for safety and help, we redirected our efforts to assist with their evacuation."_

_"On Friday, after they'd been trapped there for four days."_

_"Like I said, Will, we didn't become aware of the situation until Thursday."_

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Fletcher, when did you stop watching TV? I'm asking because we've been reporting on the harrowing conditions in the Superdome and Convention Center all week on the news, and only a few minutes ago, you mentioned you got most of your information on the situation in New Orleans from us. You can't have it both ways, sir."_

Gordon Fletcher struggled to come up with a suitable reply.

 **"Clinch the deal Will and then go to commercial,"** Mac gave out instructions over her headset.

" _I have a report here from another news station, dated Wednesday September the first, where it states that FEMA interfered with the Astor Crowne Hotel's plans to hire buses in order to transport its 500 guest out of the city. FEMA seized the buses, which were paid for by the tourists, and then sent them instead to the Convention Center. I'm sorry, I'm a little confused. Was that before or after you became aware on Thursday that the convention center functioned as an unofficial meeting point and evacuation spot for displaced refugees_?"

 **"And hit and sunk!"** Mac cheered and high-fived Paul in the control room.  **"We're running a little over, Will. I need you to time yourself better in the next block. I know it's Nagin's press secretary but if you don't, we'll have to cut the National Guard."**

 _"I'll try to keep it brief..."_ Will trailed off when the door to the studio burst open and Wesley stumbled in with the facts about Operation Wittles. At the same time, Stacy barged into the control room handing her the same information.

" **Where'd you get all that information so fast?** " Mac asked the young reporters as she studied the facts.

" **Wikipedia** ," Wes grinned as he slipped on his headset.

" _I did_ not _just hear that_ ," Will growled form behind his anchor desk.

" **Relax, I'm just kidding. Give me some credit. My grandfather's a WWII veteran and dad's a history buff. Between them we've got an entire library full of books dedicated to World War II and the Cold War. All I had to do was call home and give my mother's questions about grandchildren the runaround until she passed the phone on to my father**."

 **"Can you prepare a graphic for me,"** Mac leaned on Dax' shoulder, **"preferably a side-by-side comparison like a table or something."**

 **"Sure,"** the graphics producer nodded.

* * *

_"Welcome back to our special Katrina coverage tonight, I'm Will McAvoy and this is McNews. I'm now joined via satellite phone by Martin Rosen from the Mayor's office in New Orleans."_

_"Good afternoon, Will."_

_""How's the situation in the city?"_

_"Tense but progressing. We've had success in plugging the levees and are now pumping the water out of the city at a steady rate."_

_"I'm glad to hear that, Martin. Earlier on the show, I discussed the state emergency plan with Lindsey Walker form the EOC in Baton Rouge._ _Why was the evacuation plan not activated sooner in New Orleans?"_ Will asked the mayor's political advisor.

 _"Well, Will, we've weathered many a storm in New Orleans, so you could say we're old pros in the game."_ The PR specialist tried to spin the story immediately. _"You wanna be careful throwing words like mandatory or forced evacuation around. You do that too many times without justified cause, you'll become the boy who cried wolf too many times and everyone stops listening to you. Mandatory evac orders should be issued sparingly to ensure their effectiveness."_

 **"Don't let him spin it, Will. They knew this wasn't your average tropical storm so business as usual may have been the wrong strategy,"** Mac reminded the anchor.

 _"Some may argue that with so many lives in danger and such a monster storm headed toward the Big Easy, it would've been wiser to err on the side of caution and begin at least with the evacuation of the sick in hospitals and make provisions for poor families without access to cars and public transportation on Friday or Saturday at least, before the storm hit."_ Will called him out.

 _"Certainly but that requires tremendous logistic and administrative efforts that cost a lot of taxpayer money. Therefore it must always be the last resort. You must not forget that every decision to evacuate a city like New Orleans must also be weighed against the potential of a mass panic."_ Nagin's advisor defended himself.

 _"But wouldn't panic increase the longer you wait and the less time people have to seek shelter?"_ The news anchor pointed out.

_"That's why we opened the Superdome for people who wouldn't be able to make it for whatever reasons. We take care of our own here in this beautiful city. We just didn't anticipate so many people to hunker down in the stadium and wait out the storm there."_

_"Which brings me back to my earlier point, if evacuations had begun sooner..."_

Nagin's mouthpiece cut the newscaster off, _"You're not taking into account the many people who flat out refused to evacuate, Will. Police officers as well as sheriffs' deputies went door to door Sunday, pleading with people to leave their homes. We can't remove them from their homes using physical force, though. Besides, they don't really pose a risk to the larger community, they only endanger their own lives, so these personnel resources might be put to better use elsewhere."_

 **"Don't let him get away with it,"** Mac instructed Will, **"ask the follow up."**

_"Well, Martin, there's an argument to be made that holdouts are in fact endangering the whole community by redirecting personnel and resources that are scarce in the first place away from areas where they are needed more, not to mention the possibility of rescue workers risking their lives to save them later on when the proverbial shit hits the fan, which is why, in the past, many U.S. courts have defended and upheld city and state ordinances that make failure to comply with mandatory evacuations a misdemeanor, punishable by fines and/or prison time, even going so far as creating precedence for the government's authority to forcibly remove people from their own homes in life-threatening circumstances. However, I believe we were talking about the evacuation timeline for people who actually were willing to leave the city but couldn't."_

**"Finally, I was worried you were going to start citing case-law."** Mac quipped. She could see Will press his lips together to smother a grin.

_"Like I said before, Mayor Nagin has made it clear that excessive use of mandatory evacuation desensitizes the public to the severity of the situation, the result of which we've seen with the hundreds of people becoming stranded at the Superdome and convention center."_

_"You've given me the same soundbite two minutes ago, Martin. I'm asking about specific efforts to help those in need of assistance, like the sick and the poor, or tourists, evacuate in a timely fashion."_

_"Again, Will, you have to keep in mind the astronomic costs such measures incur so they always have to be your very last resort. If we started evacuating all the area hospitals, senior homes, and projects every time a storm heads down the Gulf of Mexico, we'd have to implement a hurricane tax to off-set the costs. We can't spend all of our money earmarked for hurricane relief funds on evacuating tourists, we have to take care of our own first. There are also evacuation plans and protocols in place that guarantee the orderly exit from the city, including the zoning and contraflow lane reversal."_

**"Go graphic 31 and 32",** Nick announced and aerial shots of idle school buses in a parking lot appeared on the screen.

_"Such as the use of school buses to transport disadvantaged people from their homes to higher ground, as it is described in your city's evacuation plan. Yet, surprisingly we have this aerial shot of a backlot with buses sitting idle pre- and post-Katrina."_

_"We used city buses instead, Will. We shuttled as many people as we could from their homes to the Superdome."_

_"Why not utilize the school buses, too, and transport people out of the city instead of a refuge of last resort?"_

_"Again it's a cost-effectiveness issue."_

_"Wouldn't it have been cheaper to bring the school buses and rescue boats to higher ground prior to the Hurricane, so you could use them instead of spending relief aid on acquiring and transporting boats and buses from all over the states and next door to New Orleans?"_

_"We couldn't have anticipated where the levees would break and which parts of the town would get flooded."_

_"Were you out sick during the Hurricane Pam exercise last year?"_ Will asked sarcastically.

 **"Last question, Will, we're going to commercial after this one."** Mac reminded him.

_"Can you address the recent rumors that Amtrak offered evacuees spots on their last train out, which was allegedly declined by Mayor Nagin?"_

_"Will, this is the first time I'm hearing about such an offer. We would've definitely made use of such an offer but, to the best of my knowledge, nobody from Amtrak contacted us. Don't quote me on that, though, I'd have to check with the transportation department."_

_"One more question, Martin, before we have to go to commercials."_

_"Sure,"_ the press secretary never saw it coming.

_"How much is an American life worth in your opinion?"_

* * *

"That last stunt was borderline," Mac scolded him a little.

" _You didn't like it?_ " Will raised his eyebrows.

"I'll let you know once I've made up my mind," she admitted, "hang on, I've got someone in my ear."

" _Hang on, I've got someone yakkin' in my ear_ ," Will chorused simultaneously.

"This is Walton from Atlanta control. What on earth are you guys doing up there in D.C.? You're making Anderson look bad and he's the golden boy right now. You keep that up and we'll have to find you an anchor desk in primetime at the Time Warner Center."

Mac and Will broke out into twin grins. Their show had caught the attention of the president of CNN News Group. 

" _Thank you, sir, but I can't take the credit alone. I've got a newsroom full of enthusiastic millennials who are chaperoned by the world's most passionate EP, Mackenzie McHale._ " Will replied.

"Well, you're on my radar now, McAvoy, so don't blow it. Loved that last line, by the way, perfect punch line."

" _Thank you, sir._ "

And just like that the president of CNN was gone again.

"Did that just really happen?" Mac stared baffled at Paul.

" _I told you, Mac, didn't I? New York City, baby,_ " Will did a little dance at his anchor desk.

"That's money you'll never get back, Ginger." Mac replied dryly while she high-fived Paul. Will straightened up a little embarrassed. She wouldn't dare expose him like that in front of their staff. Thankfully, her jab was just veiled enough to make sense to only the two of them, and the joke went right over everyone else's heads. He pursed his lips and looked amused into the camera.

" _Oh shut up, Mackenzie, you're just jealous because he liked my punch line_!"

The whole control room broke out into laughter.

"He was right though, you're on _fire_ , baby." Mac grinned.

" _Just trying out something new_ ," Will shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I like it, keep doing it."

"Twenty seconds out."

* * *

After their last commercial break, Will announced Captain Jamal Barton from the National Guard, decorated war hero, Purple Heart recipient and member of Lt. Gen. Honoré's staff in New Orleans as his final guest.

 **"Do you want to interview him or ask him out on a date?"** Mac muttered when Will wouldn't stop listing ranks and decorations as if singing praises.

" _Captain, thank you for your service and agreeing to come on our program tonight_ ," Will continued unperturbed.

" _Thank you, Will_ ," the soldier gave a curt nod and then winked, " _my vocal cords could use a break from shouting orders anyway_."

" _Captain, what's this we hear about the new zero tolerance policy invoked in New Orleans effective immediately?_ "

" _Thanks for giving me a chance to clear up that misunderstanding. It's been about two weeks since the storm hit. We're slowly but definitely shifting from rescue to recovery. The only thing more horrible than the images will be the stench of decomposed water corpses. Naturally we're concerned about their dignity. Those are Americans, Will, who deserve better than their final images being broadcast to the rest of the world for entertainment._ "

" _You can see, though, why journalists and the public in general worry about military censorship in Louisiana. Considering the poor performance of government agencies in the disaster relief work, one might be inclined to think you guys are worried about the rising death toll and want to cook the books on human loss and property damages._ "

" _Yes, but this is really not about covering up what we do or what we find, other than we want to prevent Americans having to see heavily decomposed bodies of their loved ones being broadcast to the rest of the world. Maybe we should've phrased it better. We're not banning reporters from the city overall, we're just revoking permission for embeds_."

" _So you're saying journalists will no longer be allowed to ride along on boats and trucks as you recover the dead from the houses and streets. Though I'd like to point out that we here at CNN pride ourselves with the kind of impartial, respectful, fair and balanced news coverage we subscribe to._ "

" _Yes, nobody's going to take your cameras or equipment or anything. I'd like to appeal to every reporter who's got an ounce of moral left in their body, I strongly urge them to refrain from capturing decomposed bodies. Don't zoom in on corpses, folks, you wouldn't want to see your loved ones this way, either_."

" _How many troops are there currently in Southern Louisiana?_ "

" _There's about 45,000 of us and we've been working around the clock for two weeks, preparing for the hurricane, providing residents with supplies, rescuing holdouts and stranded people, fixing roads and bridges for relief trucks, repairing levees, protecting citizens from looters - you name it, we've been doing it._ "

" _The Department of Homeland Security released some statistics last week, detailing that by September 3rd, FEMA had distributed, presumably via the national guard, 1.9 MRE, that is, meals ready to eat, and 6.7 liters of water. Why did none of that, or almost none I should say, arrive at the Superdome and convention center? Where'd it all go?_ "

" _Some of it most certainly did get there. I oversaw the delivery of roughly three truckloads of water and seven filled to the brim with MRE. I don't know yet what exactly happened in the dome but I suppose some of it may have become water damaged due to the leak and the large influx of evacuees during rescue missions further depleted our reserves much quicker than we anticipated. We never received order to go to the convention center until Thursday when we arrived at the Superdome with trucks and buses and were partially redirected to the center._ "

" _In June 1948, US forces in occupied West-Germany were faced with the difficult decision of pulling all 8,000 troops stationed in West-Berlin and forfeiting the city to the Soviets. While the loss of the city posed no strategic or military disadvantage, US presence in the former German capital was a bit of a prestige project. Withdrawal would've meant victory for the Soviets and if there was one thing we really didn't want during the Cold War, then it was admitting defeat to the Commies_."

" _I can see where you're going with this, Will, but the situation isn't really comparable to the Berlin Blockade. We'd just fought a major war over there and had a whole army stationed in Germany. They had planes and equipment and the military infrastructure to pull it off_."

" **Go 52** ," Nick instructed and Dax loaded the postwar map of Germany, divided into four occupation zones, so viewers could visualize the conditions as Will explained the situation.

" _Actually, by '48 the size of the entire US army had been drastically reduced and only 98,000 troops remained in West-Germany, that's still almost twice as much as we've got in New Orleans right now. They had 96 C-47 Skytrains, each capable of holding 3.5 tons, so a total capacity of 336 tons. The Soviets announced the blockade on June 24, and on June 26 we already transported 80 tons of supply into West-Berlin_."

" **And 53** ," Nick snapped his fingers. Will's voice could be heard now over a colorful pie chart of material airlifted in "Operation Vittles" during the Berlin blockade: 

>   * 646 tons of flour and wheat
>   * 125 tons of cereal
>   * 64 tons of fat
>   * 109 tons of meat and fish
>   * 180 tons of dehydrated potatoes
>   * 180 tons of sugar
>   * 11 tons of coffee (!)
>   * 19 tons of powdered milk, 5 tons of whole milk for children
>   * 3 tons of fresh yeast for baking
>   * 144 dehydrated veggies
>   * 38 tons of salt
>   * 10 tons of cheese
>   * 3,475 tons of coal and gasoline
> 


" _For almost a year, the combined efforts of French, British and US troops in West-Germany delivered 5,000 tons of supplies_ daily _to an estimated 2.2 million people. Seems to me that, if we were able to do that for people who'd been previously considered enemies in a foreign occupied country whose infrastructure we had just about eroded during World War II by bombing their cities to thy kingdom come some sixty years ago, and under the threat of one million Soviet soldiers no less, we should be more than capable of dropping some measly 250,000 MRE and bottles of water into a sports stadium and convention center in our own backyard for our fellow Americans, even if they're surrounded by ten feet of water, with the modern technology we have today."_

The captain remained silent.

" **Wrap it up, Will, you've only got two minutes left.** " Mac warned him.

"You're form New Orleans, Captain, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you still have a home?"

"I don't know, I've been working around the clock for the past two weeks and haven't had a chance to check on my house. My wife packed up the kids, my sick parents and the dogs into the family van Friday afternoon, though, and got the hell out of dodge. Drove all the way to her sister in Kentucky, so they're safe."

"I'm glad to hear that. It must be difficult, though, to see your city in shambles."

"It's..." the captain struggled with the right words, "can I say FUBAR on your show?"

"We'll let that one slide," Will smiled, "considering the circumstances that might actually be the most accurate description of the situation. It's hard to recognize the city of New Orleans and even harder to envision how all that damage can be repaired."

"I've been to hell and back, Will. I didn't think I could see anything worse than the war action in Iraq and Afghanistan. What's happening here is simply heartbreaking. We're talking about Americans, here. These are my brothers and sisters and it nearly kills me to see them suffering like that. You just wish you could do more. And I'm not the only one, Will. There's hundreds of us in the National Guard who have been deployed to fight the war on terrorism. A few of them have been ordered back to help us with Katrina now. They're coming home, not knowing if their homes are still standing or their loved ones are still alive." The soldier shook his head, sighing heavily.

" _Thank you, Captain Barton." Will turned to camera one to address viewers in his closing monologue, "If you feel so inclined to donate your time, money, services, goods, or resources of any kind really, now, please check out our show's website. Digital editor Frank Goodry has compiled a comprehensive list of links to relief organizations which will welcome your help with open arms. Thank you for watching us. This is Will McAvoy, coming up next is Wolf Blitzer with_ The Situation Room."

* * *

The McNews staff stared speechlessly at the TV set. A long moment of complete silence passed at their table before they broke out into wild cheers.

"That was awesome!"

"Unbelievable!"

"Like magic!"

"We did this, we fucking did this!"

They puffed out their chests, patted each other on their backs and bumped their fists together. They celebrated noisily and with lots of alcohol until Stacy, Wesley and Paul arrived. Their colleagues held out their hands for a round of high-fives, and like soccer players shaking hands after a match, the three producers in charge of the interviews walked down the line, collecting their accolades.

"You'll never believe what happened," Wes gushed.

"Walton cut in from Atlanta control to compliment Will on the show," Stacy blurted out.

"What did he say?"

"We don't know," Paul shrugged, "he only talked to Mac and Will through the head set but judging by their grins it must have been pretty fuckin' awesome."

"You know what that means?" Frank said.

"More booze?" Paul chuckled.

"More booze!" The digital producer nodded and waved the waitress.

When Will and Mac entered the bar and grill a few minutes later, the minions cheered and applauded them.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Mac did a little bow, "This, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do the news."

Whoops and whistles followed, garnering curious looks from the other patrons in the bar.

"All right, kids, settle down, I don't want to get kicked out before I had a burger," Will motioned for the staff to calm down again. They reporters quickly commandeered another table to create enough space for everyone to sit together. The waitress brought two more pitchers of beer and took the orders of the latecomers.

"Great show, everyone!" Mac raised her glass and everyone else followed. "Today our friends and colleagues got schooled by Will McAvoy!"

"Hear, hear." 

They all took a sip from their drinks.

"You guys did great work all week. I'm impressed," Will passed the compliment right back to his staff.

"So am I, by the way. You should all be proud, you even caught Walton's attention."

"To us!" Deb shouted.

"Hear, hear!" The crowed exclaimed boisterously and downed another gulp of beer.

"To the victims of Katrina," Paul raised his glass a little higher. "May God have mercy on their souls and give those who survived the strength to rebuild their lives."

"To the soldiers, volunteers and rescue workers who risk their lives every day out there." Kristen joined her colleague's toast. 

* * *

"I don't know what you did differently tonight, but watching you behind your desk felt...magical," Mac told Will later in the evening. They'd ended up on a separate table for two away from the rest of their staff half an hour ago.

"That's because you have the hots for me," the new anchor grinned smugly.

"Shut it," she rolled her eyes, secretly wondering if that was part of the reason, "you were different tonight. Like... I don't know. You were... better than normal."

"Trade secrets," he shrugged his shoulders casually. 

"Oh, come on," Mackenzie leaned in closer, "you can tell me. You know you want to."

"You know I was a prosecutor, right?" Will tilted his head and gazed into Mac's eyes.

"Sure, Mr. 94% conviction rate," she retorted, "I'm still checking for decapitated horse heads under my covers every night before I go to bed."

"Do you know why or how I won so many cases?"

"Dumb luck?" She teased him.

"Ver funny," he narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, dish, what's your secret to success?" She leaned over the table a litte.

"Cross-examination," Will wiggled his eyebrows, "I'm a master in the fine art of cross-examination."

"Should I be impressed?" Mac frowned and slouched a little. She'd expected something more exciting.

"A good prosecutor conducts his cross-examination in a calm manner. The more hostile you appear, the less juries and witness will like you. And you don't want to antagonize the defense's witness any further than they already are. What you want to do is let them entangle themselves into lies and contradictions while you stand back asking seemingly innocent questions."

"Like getting Fletcher to admit he got his updates on the situation from the news so you can then confront him with his own statement when he claims he didn't know about the evacuees at the convention center," Mac nodded.

"Exactly," Will grinned, "and then you discredit the witness in front of the jury by providing further evidence that his testimony can't be trusted."

"Like an article which says FEMA redirected hotel guest to the evac spot they presumably knew nothing about."

"Bingo."

"That's..." Mac perked up, inadvertently bringing their heads even closer together, "brilliant."

"I know," Will smiled smugly, "requires lots of time to do all the research, and experience to assess your witness quickly in order to be able to anticipate their moves."

"No, I mean that's brilliant as a concept for a news show."

"Huh?"

"Oh my God!" Mackenzie looked at him as if he'd just hung the moon. "Why didn't I think of it? That's exactly what we need!"

"We need what?"

"A courtroom. It's the perfect format for an unbiased, informative, educational news show."

"With me as the judge, jury and executioner?" Will smirked skeptically.

"No, you're the lawyer, our guests are the expert witnesses, our audience is the jury and I'm the judge who keeps everyone in check!"

"Of course you are," he replied dryly, as he reached for his beer, "anyone ever tell you you're a control freak?"

"Think about it, Will." Mackenzie beamed at him. "We'll put your experience as a prosecutor in the courtroom to use and have you cross-examine the people who come on our show like expert witnesses."

"Yeah, only nobody will come on our show anymore once word gets out we're asking the hard questions because unlike a real judge, neither you nor I have subpoena power."

"I believe once word gets out that we won't let them get away with soundbites and hot air balloons, they'll come to us because they'll recognize a chance to make themselves heard. All they have to do is prepare themselves better for our tough questions and bring facts and figures to the table. We'll treat everyone fairly and with utmost civility, every party gets equal air time, and nobody gets pitted against each other. It worked today, didn't it?"

"If you build it, they will come," he smiled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "never mind. We don't know how well today worked until we see tonight's numbers tomorrow. George will never go for it. What you want is incompatible with ratings and the concept of our show."

"We've got Walton on our side," Mac countered. "As a millennial myself, Will, I'm telling you that we're living at a critical juncture in time. We've only begun to pull our collective heads out of the sand after 9/11 and the next two administrations will be marked by civil rights debates, immigration reform, corporate America and its encroachment on personal freedom, and the right to privacy. If there ever was a time to invite young people to join the dialogue it is now. We're sick and tired of being patronized and lied to by politicians and the media. That's why the other half of us has already tuned out and the rest of us have their fingers on the button."

"And you really think our show could do that? McNews at 5pm on CNN? We hold politicians and pundits accountable?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm entirely out of his voice.

"Yes, I do." Mackenzie nodded. "Be the change you want to see in the world."

Will sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I know you want his. You stood in our bullpen not even two months ago, condemning bloodsports coverage. You don't like what our profession is becoming anymore than I do."

"We'll pitch it to the minions and gauge their reaction first." He finally conceded.

"Thank you," Mac nodded, then added a beat later, "I really wish you'd just learn their names."


	13. Slippin' Through My Fingers

"Hi mum," Mac greeted her mom breathlessly, cradling the phone in her neck while she tried to unlock the door. She promptly dropped her keys and cursed under her breath, "Goddammit."

"Mackenzie!" Her mother scolded her immediately.

Mac just rolled her eyes, as she bent over to pick up her keys.

"Darling, are you alright?" Barbara McHale's voice was thick with worry. Never one to beat around the bush, she asked anxiously, "How's William?" So the cat was out of the bag. Her parents had officially found out about Will's arrest.

"Sorry, mum," Mac apologized dutifully, "I dropped my keys when I picked up the phone. I was going to call you back but I just got home from jail." 

"Now that's a line I never thought I'd hear coming out of your mouth," Lady McHale replied dryly. "Your brother? Definitely. Fiona? Absolutely. You were supposed to be my do-over, my perfect little angel, and now you're the only child of mine who's seen a correctional facility from the inside."

"What can I say, mum?" Mac shrugged her shoulders in jest, "You know me, always trying to outdo Dave and Fi. You'll always have Saint Rose, though."

"Don't call your sister that!" Barbara McHale reprimanded her daughter.

"Is that Mackenzie?" Mac heard her father ask in the background. "How's William?"

"Your father's here," her mother stated the obvious, "let me put you on speaker."

"Hi, dad!" Mac greeted her father.

"Sweetheart, what's this I hear about William surrendering himself last night? Are you alright?"

"The judge didn't rule in our favor and found Will in contempt." Mackenzie explained.

"But I thought you said he was on your side?!? Doesn't William know him?" Barbara interjected.

"That's not how it works in court, mum, and they don't _know_ each other socially," Mac corrected her, "Will just argued in his courtroom some twenty years ago. That's all."

"Must have left quite an impression, nevertheless, if the judge still remembers his face after all these years," her father mused. "How is he holding up?"

"Okay, I guess," Mac shrugged her shoulders, "you know him, he likes to play things close to his vest so as not to upset me."

"Pot meet kettle," her father called out Mackenzie, who rolled her eyes again. "And don't roll your eyes at me, young lady!"

Mac gaped, "Seriously, that's creepy, daddy. We're not even on a video call!"

"I don't suppose that dungeon you and William bought has electricity by now so we can have a proper Skype call on computers? I hate these smartphones. If there's ever been a misnomer, it's smartphones; I hate these stupid little devices. Can't see a bloody thing on them."

"It's not a dungeon, daddy," Mackenzie laughed, "it's a penthouse."

"Could have fooled me with the horror stories I've been hearing about all the faulty wiring."

"We do have electricity now," Mac protested and flipped the light switch for good measure. Then she realized her parents wouldn't be able to see the light flooding their hallway. "Are you calling me from the study?"

"Yes, why?" Her father wanted to know.

"I don't understand anyway why you and William couldn't just hire a contractor and interior decorator to renovate this dump for you." Her mother kept criticizing.

"Because this is our dream apartment and we want to build our home _together_." Mac explained while she launched the Skype app on her Blackberry.

"No, I get that, sweetheart, but did it have to be from scratch?" Her mother insisted.

"Did you just call to make fun of my little ramshackle hut?" Mackenzie grumbled and waited for the VOIP application to load fully.

"Of course, not, darling. Your father and I just worry about you, that's all. You're all the way over there, all by yourself in that half-finished apartment..."

"... which is nothing compared to roughing it in a foxhole in Kabul," Mac cut in. On the phone she heard the signal on her parents' computer in the background that announced her online presence. 

"What was that?"

"Me," Mac explained, "let's switch to Skype shall we?"

"Your father and I agree that the less we know about your time in the Middle East, the better for our state of mind," her mother continued unperturbed.

"Believe me, mum, once you see the apartment," Mac swooned, "you'll love it. The view is phenomenal and it's _ours_." Not hers or Will's, _theirs_. And no Wades or Ninas had ever graced their makeshift nattress with their presence. This was a cheerleader and neuro-surgeon free zone. A fresh start for both of them. Together.

"We'll have to take your word for it, sweetheart."

"Hang up and accept the call on your computer," Mac instructed her parents, when the familiar ringtone could already be heard in the background, "I'll show you around the flat, using my phone's camera."

Her parents did as told and Mackenzie walked them through their new apartment.

"As you can see, the bathrooms are all done. Now that was a drag! I swear I thought Will was gonna leave me for the plumber! You should've seen how his eyes lit up when he turned on the shower for the first time and water came pouring out of the ceiling like a waterfall. And the massage jets in the walls! Like a kid in front of a Christmas tree." Mac chuckled as she closed the door to the master bath behind her. "The bedroom's still a work in progress, obviously, but the contractor promised us he'd have the dry walls up this month. Then we can paint them and finish the hardwood floors. Of course, Will's been absolutely no help in that department, I swear the man's colour blind!" She brushed the strand of hair that fell over her eyes away, "I'm thinking agapanthus for the bedroom with a faint mauve..."

"Goodness gracious," her mother gasped dramatically, clutching her heart.

"Mum!"

"Barbara, what's wrong?" Sir Geoffrey grabbed his wife's arm concerned.

"Mummy, are you ok?" Mac leaned forward, squinting at her phone's screen, "Is she having a heart attack? Call 999!" 

"I will most certainly have one if that was what I think it was flashing by on my screen!" Barbara turned to her husband and grabbed a fistful of shirt on his arm, "Didn't you see that?"

"See what?" Her father eyed the women confused.

"Mackenzie Morgan McHale, is there something you'd like to tell your parents?" Her mother put her hands on her hips, "If that's even still your name?"

"Oh!" The EP grinned sheepishly, glancing at her wedding band, "I guess I buried the lead there."

"You think?" Barbara mustered her daughter.

"Is this a female thing?" Geoffrey McHale looked completely lost between the women. As it suddenly dawned on him what this might be about, his jaw dropped slightly. "Oh my God!" He squinted at the screen, trying to get a better look at his youngest daughter, "Are you pregnant, sweetheart?"

"No, dad!" Mackenzie laughed out loud and held up her left hand, showing off the new ring, "Will and I got married yesterday!"

"You're married?" Her father looked at her dumbfounded, then turned to his wife repeating baffled, "She's married."

"I know," Barbara exchanged amused glances with her husband. "I saw the wedding band," she glared at her daughter, "even though she tried to hide it behind her flashy engagement ring."

"I didn't try to hide _anything_ , sheesh!" Mac rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to hide. I'm a grown woman who's made a decision to marry the man she loves more than anything else in this world."

"Eight hours of painful labour and this is all one gets," Barbara McHale muttered.

"And what about me?" Geoffrey grumbled, "I just found out I've been relegated to the sidelines and replaced by another man in my baby girl's life. And I didn't even get a chance to give him the evil eye while I gave her away."

"Oh please, would you two quit being so overdramatic?" Mac huffed.

"Wait until you've raised children of your own and find out all of a sudden you've been completely discarded from their lives!" Her mother complained.

"Jesus, mum! We would've very much liked for  _both_  of you to be at our wedding but we were a little hard pressed for time."

"That's what you get for getting involved with an American hoodlum," her father teased her.

"I'm surprised you found a church on such short notice," her mother noted amazed.

"We used the chapel at the courthouse."

"You had a courthouse wedding?!?" Barbara McHale looked at her daughter aghast.

"You say that like she got married in a satanic ritual," Mac's father observed amused, knowing how much his wife had already invested emotionally into her youngest daughter's wedding planning.

"They're not even married in God's eyes! And courthouse weddings are just so dreadfully bland and impersonal." Her mother seemed to calm down a little, "You'll see the difference when we'll have the church wedding in June. It would've been a real shame if we'd poured over those floral arrangements, colour schemes and wedding dresses for days in vain."

It dawned on Mackenzie that her parents had a completely false understanding of what her wedding was like when they pictured a courthouse ceremony. She tried to describe it to them, "Actually, Will and I had a real nice Catholic service; we didn't just slap our signatures under a wedding certificate and called it a day. It was perfect really, mum, much more intimate than the big wedding with 300 people would've been. Just Will and me, Father Phil and our newsroom family."

"How'd you even get Father Phil to agree to that?" Her father mused.

"Something about union rules?" Mac frowned, "Father Phil didn't make much sense. You'd have to ask Will about that, he organized the whole thing. Can you believe that?" She admitted with a chuckle, "Called it men's work."

Barbara McHale snorted, "Are we talking about the same William who made gagging noises in my kitchen last Christmas every time we showed him a page from a bridal magazine and asked him for his opinion about dresses, colour schemes, menus and venues?"

"The one and same," Mac laughed, "though he had help from the staff. They did an amazing job decorating the chapel very tastefully - hang on," Mac pressed a few buttons on her phone and forwarded her parents the photographs Don had taken at the ceremony, "I just sent you the pictures. We don't have many because there wasn't enough time to hire a wedding photographer but as you can see we had cake and flowers and even a band playing."

"Oh my God!" Her mother exclaimed when she opened the files and saw her daughter walking down the aisle in her wedding dress. "Mackenzie! Oh my gosh, you're such a beautiful bride!"

"You look lovely, Mackenzie," her father sighed, "all grown up."

"Well, I am on the other side of thirty," Mac deadpanned.

"And would you look at that smile on William's face!" Barbara gushed excitedly, nudging her husband.

"He's chuffed to bits," Geoffrey chuckled. "Is that the infamous Charlie behind Will?"

"The one and only, he was his best man, and that's Sloan behind me, serving as my maid of honor. You'll get to meet them in June when we hold the big reception."

"Oh, so the reception is still on?" Her mother glanced up surprised in between clicking through close-ups from the vows.

"Yes, like I said, we do want to celebrate our wedding with all our families." 

"Aw," her parents chorused and she knew they hit the picture of the wedding kiss. 

"Awww how sweet, we have to print and frame this one! They look so happy," Barbara tapped her husband's shoulder. "Look at that William, beaming into that camera like a proud peacock." They'd come upon the last few pictures where they'd posed for Don after the ceremony. That one was Mac's favorite, too. She'd put it on her desk in her office. "Oh Mackenzie, I'm so happy for you. I just wish I could've been there to share this big day with you." 

"I know, mum, and I'm really sorry you and dad missed our wedding. I promise we'll make it up to you when you come to visit next month."

"I just don't understand what the hurry was," her mother tried again, looking hopefully, "if you're not pregnant? Which wouldn't be the end of the world, either, because you wouldn't be the first nor last woman to be in that predicament. Accidents do happen, and after all, we're not living in the dark ages anymore."

"Mom..." Mackenzie sighed as a flicker of sadness rushed over her face ever so briefly, "I just didn't want to take any chances. We've been through so many ups and downs, Will and I, and God knows we've handled most of it poorly..." She paused, trying to come up with an explanation her mother would understand. "The thought of Billy sitting in that cell all alone, worrying if I'd still be there when he got out..." Mac sighed again. "When Will walked out of that courtroom and told me the verdict, he cracked this joke about June brides. And I just _knew_ , you know? Beyond a shadow of a doubt. I just didn't care about any of that anymore. I didn't want to be a _June_ bride, I wanted to be a _Will_ bride."

"You just couldn't wait another minute," her mother smiled knowingly.

"No," Mackenzie blushed, "I... he's...my... soulmate." She giggled nervously, "I can't believe I really did just say that. God, I must sound unbelievably corny."

"You sound like a blushing bride, sweetheart," her father grinned, "nothing wrong with that a day after you tied the knot."

"As long as you're happy..." Her mother seemed to finally come around.

"I am, mum," Mackenzie nodded sharply. "We really bring out the best in each other and we're absolutely miserable without each other."

"Was that the bell I heard?" Lady McHale looked at her husband pointedly.

"I'll go check," Geoffrey offered immediately, getting the hint, and rose from his chair, before he blew his daughter a kiss. "I love you M'kenzie. Tell William to keep his chin up."

"Will do. Love you, too, dad." She waved to her father, then cocked her head at her mother. "Very smooth, mum, we've got servants who answer the door."

"That's okay, sweetheart, after three weddings I'm used to being sent out of the room for mother-daughter talks," her father quipped on his way out, which made Mackenzie laugh out loud.

"He's gone," Barbara waited until the door closed behind her husband, "now tell me what you didn't want to discuss in front of your father. What's going on, sweetheart?"

"Nothing, mum, I swear. If Will wasn't in jail, we'd be blissfully happy," Mac insisted.

"Acting stupid has never suited you, darling." Barbara McHale studied her daughter's face carefully, "I'm still your mother and I know when something's bothering you."

"Everything's fine, mum," Mackenzie defended herself.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

"Yes, mum."

"You can tell me, I'm your mother. I saw that flicker in your eyes..."

"Do I need to swear on the Bible," Mac cut in, "or are you ever going to just take my word for it when I say I know with absolute certainty that I'm not pregnant?"

"No need to become so aggressive, Mackenzie, it was only a question."

"Sorry," Mac had the good grace to look a little contrite, "it's just a raw spot right now."

"Oh," her mother perked up, "is Will getting cold feet again?"

"Huh?" Mac frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Well, your father and I got the distinct impression you were trying for a baby when you visited us over Christmas."

Mackenzie blinked at her mother shocked and speechless.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that some big secret?"

"Let me guess," Mac grumbled once she gathered her wits again, "Aunt Penelope ratted us out again? You really have to stop putting her in a room next to us. I swear to God that woman has superhuman hearing."

"To be fair, sweetheart, neither you nor Will were very subtle about it this time. All that sneaking upstairs during the day and retiring early because of "jetlag." Please, the looks you two kept sending each other across the dinner table... I'm surprised Aunt Penelope and I aren't pregnant, too."

"I'm not pregnant!" Mac protested.

"Why didn't you just say something? Your father would've understood. You being engaged to William of all people is as good as being married and I can hear your biological clock ticking all the way from over here. We would've left you two alone if you'd just mentioned it."

"So the lot of you could have given us advice on best positions and right nutrition for conception the whole time we were there? No, thanks."

"Ha! I knew it!" Mac's mother cried out triumphantly, "Not that I needed verbal confirmation because your father's hearing and mine works just fine."

Mackenzie's face fell. "Oh. My. God."

"Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart."

"I think I may have just thrown up a little in my mouth."

"Nonsense, darling. It's not like your father and I don't know where babies come from. We're _thrilled_ to have more grandchildren we can spoil rotten! Just don't be surprised when you find the new plasma screen TV in your old bedroom next time you visit us."

" _Definitely_  going to be sick," Mac muttered.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we didn't really hear that much. Thank God your father insisted on getting a TV for our bedroom because we kept falling asleep downstairs and hated dragging our drowsy selves all the way up to bed. We just turned up the volume." Lady McHale waited a beat for good measure to torment her daughter a little longer, "A lot."

Mackenzie gaped at her mother horrified.

Older McHale 1, younger McHale nil.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Will raised his eyebrows, looking at his fiancée for confirmation before he dropped his pants and boxers.

"God, yes, Billy!" She licked her lips, taking in his naked form, and raked her teeth over her lower lip. Damn, he still looked fine for his age.

He grinned and climbed onto the mattress. "Just my luck you're ovulating when we're visiting your parents again."

"Don't worry about them. They're all downstairs in the family room, watching the _Downton Abbey_ Christmas Special."

"They probably think of me as a sex fiend. Like your parents bought our bogus jet lag excuse for retiring early! They totally know we're doing it."

"Yeah, but you're _my_ sex fiend," She sat up more and made a come hither gesture.

"That I am," Will crawled between her legs. His cock dangled freely and Mac couldn't resist, reaching out to touch it. She stroked him to a full erection while he kissed and caressed her bare breasts.

Mac smiled at her fiancé, "Will you still be able to look my mother in the eye when she asks you how you slept at breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"I'll manage," he grinned. "Something tells me, though, 'with my dick buried deep inside your daughter's pussy to make sure none of my semen leaked out of her womb' is _not_ going to be a socially acceptable answer."

"Fuck, Billy, don't say things like that," Mac's eyes darkened with desire, "I need to be able to look my parents in the eye at breakfast, too." 

"At least you don't have to worry about springing a boner." He let his hands glide over her calves, admiring her perfect body. "You're so beautiful, Mackenzie," he sighed. She moaned as he manipulated her nipples with his fingers and tongue, until they hardened into stiff little buds he could suckle gently. 

His hand paused as it roamed over her abdomen, where their baby would grow one day. He splayed his fingers, imagining her belly swell with their child, and suddenly it hit him how much trust she put in him. This was it, the ultimate act of faith between a couple. They would depend on each other to raise the tiny human they'd create tonight for the rest of their lives and be linked together through him even beyond their deaths. They were about to hand over the reigns to their lives for the next twenty years - to a child that undoubtedly would inherit both her parents' stubborn streaks and strong wills. They were doomed for all intents and purposes.

"I love you, Mackenzie," he grinned like a fool, "I'll never stop loving you."

"I know," she smiled amused, "I hear it's like Newton's law of gravity."

"I promise you I'll be the best husband and father I can be. I'll never lose my temper with you or the little one. You'll always be my top priority. I'd rather die before I let any harm come to you two."

"Of course," she frowned, wondering what brought on his change in mood, "I know all that, it's why I chose you, Billy, why I will always choose you over all other men. Are you okay, honey?"

"Yes," he suddenly seemed flustered by his own emotionality, "I just want you to know you're safe with me. You and the baby. I'll never hurt you again. I love you and I'll never leave you. I'll always take care of you. You can rely on me."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, "I know, Will. You're mine now, just like I've always been yours, and I'm never ever letting you go again. I love you, honey. You're stuck with me for good."

While they shared a slow and deep kiss, Mac spread her legs a little wider. Her invitation forced Will to shift his weight a little. His cock head brushed over her soft skin, leaving a wet trail behind. He laced their fingers together and moved their hands over her head, probing her mouth with his tongue. Finally they broke apart in desperate need of air.

"You have to put it inside, Billy," she brushed his hair back with her nose and kissed his temple, "or it's not gonna work."

"I know that!" He harrumphed, "Can you just give me a moment?"

"Nerves?" She teased him.

"It's a little overwhelming," he admitted, "the prospect of fathering my first child." His cock twitched at those words excitedly, sending another drop of pre-come to gather at the tip. It seemed to have no problem performing under pressure.

"Stop overthinking it, babe," she kissed his temples again, "just take me already. Please, Billy, I need it. Long and deep, hon. Tonight, I want to feel every inch of you."

"I've never had to worry about getting a girl _not_ pregnant." He looked ay her with wonder.

"You're not turning into one of those husbands who can't have sex with their wives anymore because all they see is the mother of their child? Cause I'm warning you, Billy, I'm in my sexual prime. Twice a week is the absolute minimum. I'll put a clause in our pre-nup if I have to."

"We're not getting a pre-nup," Will grumbled, "we've been over this."

"Well, I will certainly get one where I can divorce you at the end of each week if you don..." she gasped when she felt his tip penetrate her pussy slowly.

"Figured out the best way to end that discussion once and for all," he grinned smugly. Their eyes locked while she took all of him in until he was completely sheathed.

"You're inside me," she stated the obvious, the truth of what they were about to engage in finally hitting home. "God, you feel so good inside me."

"Feels different," he gave her a boyish grin, "doesn't it?"

She nodded slowly, "Much more intimate. And kinda primal?" She definitely liked the extra thrill. It wasn't the first time they did it bareback, hell, it wasn't even the first time they had unprotected sex, but never before had either of them consciously mated with anyone for the express purpose of creating another human being. Well, except for that one time perhaps...

"Do you remember our last Christmas here?" She breathed heavily.

"Oh God, yes, that was so exhilarating!" He wore a dreamy look on his face.

"And we were only pretending back then," she grinned.

"Well, we're not role-playing now, Mackenzie. You're actually ovulating and if we're really lucky, we're making our first baby tonight." Hearing him say it out loud like that caused her to moan deeply.

"Once you get your moves on anyway," she teased him.

"God, you're bossy tonight," he grinned and pulled out slowly. She lifted her head as she felt him inch by inch withdraw from her pussy. Together, they watched his shaft emerge, glistening with her arousal, before he sunk gradually back into her. Mac moaned and he leaned down to kiss her. His tongue pried her lips open so it could snake around hers lazily. She buried her fingers in his hair, holding his head in place, while she plunged her tongue into his mouth. Now it was Will's turn to groan as their kisses grew more heated. The passion between them rose and took over their bodies, which moved together as one.

"Faster, babe."

Mac's lips released Will's completely out of breath, as she turned her head a little bit, gasping desperately for air. She felt his hot, heavy breaths on her moist skin as his mouth trailed kisses along her jawline.

"We're making a baby, Billy," Mac whispered amazed into the night, "we're really doing this."

"I know," he hummed into her ear. His tongue licked her sensitive spot below, knowing it would draw out a throaty moan from her. "Even my balls seem to know this isn't a drill. They feel so heavy and full." His lips and nose caressed her soft skin, nuzzling her neck.

If that was a ploy to get her to fondle his scrotum, it worked perfectly. Mac reached down to cup his swinging testicles and rolled them in her palm, producing an involuntary grunt from Will. Two drawn-up tight, perfectly-shaped eggs that barely fit into her hand, irresistible to squeeze.

He looked up and locked eyes with her, as her body met his thrusts stroke for stroke. 

"I love you," she murmured and he brought their lips together in a ferocious kiss to muffle their grunts and moans, as they grew louder by the minute. They'd been hot for each other all day, waiting for a chance to make love ever since Mac whispered into his ear that her LH levels had spiked.

"God, I want you, Mac," he panted breathlessly as he pumped into her mercilessly, "I can't ever get enough of you. I love you so much."

She moved her lips to his ear, "Then come inside me, honey, I'm so ready."

"Oh fuck," he grunted and shuddered. Her arms wound around his back and shoulders as she hugged his body tightly.

Mackenzie knew she had him at her mercy now, "I want your baby, Will." She snaked her tongue out and licked his ear. "Give me your baby, Billy, give me all your come."

"Oh Mackenzie," he whispered as he fucked her harder and deeper.

She grunted and pulled his earlobe between her lips, nibbling carefully. "Do it, Billy, I'm so close. Knock me up, honey."

"Oh God," Will groaned, feeling his load travel up his shaft, "oh Mac." He grunted as he gave one final push that sent both of them over the edge.

"Billy!" Mac smiled at him through her climax. The spasms in her pussy sucked his seed deep into her fertile womb.

"'kenzie!"

"Come for me, babe."

Will held himself deep inside her, releasing millions of sperm into her unprotected pussy. They shared each other's breath as they gazed into each other's eyes, feeling every spurt of semen. Finally, he pressed a searing kiss on her lips, still feeling her walls massage his cock in the aftermath of her orgasm. 

"Can you feel anything?" He asked her shyly.

"There's a whole industry making billions of dollars every year by selling pregnancy tests to desperate women but you think I'm the only exception in the world who can tell if you just impregnated me by ' _feeling_ ' it?" She looked at him amused.

"Right, when you put it this way..." He gave her a sheepish grin, "I'm just wondering... I think it's working. I came a lot, you're ovulating, obviously my guys are fighting like crazy over your egg right now."

Mac chuckled, "I'm getting a really funny image of little McAvoys boxing each other out of way so they can get to the big prize first."

"We're a competitive family," Will quipped, "you'll find that out soon enough when he's old enough for science fairs."

"Whoa, hold your horses right there, baby daddy, let's finish making this one before you register her for the Scripps Spelling Bee already."

"Do you think it's been long enough?" He looked down where their bodies were still joined together.

"Your knee?"

He shook his head, "Just wondering how long is long enough. The websites weren't clear on that. A few minutes can be anything from three to fifteen."

"I like having you stay inside me after you finish but I guess it's ok to pull out now."

He started to withdraw but stopped when she let out a throaty moan. He quirked an eyebrow at her amused.

"Don't pull out," Mac whispered breathlessly and moaned again when he pushed back inside her. "I think I'm gonna come again. Must be the new hormones."

"Or the thrill of conception really turns you on. I know I've stayed hard the whole time just thinking about what's going down inside you."

"Shit, Billy, keep talking dirty and I'll definitely have another one," she groaned and wriggled her hips.

"Top you off?" Will grinned and started to slide in an out of her, slowly, to enjoy the myriad of emotions as they played out across her face. Her whimpers and moans answered his question. He held her gaze steadily, "That's _my_  semen coursing through your body, searching for your egg. _Mine_. I put it there, so _my_  baby can grow inside you. _Our baby, Mackenzie_."

Her breathing became labored again very quickly. She sucked her lower lip in and closed her eyes in pleasure as he rubbed along her G-spot. He leaned in closer to her ear, "I flooded your womb with so much of my seed, your egg can't escape my sperm. Right now a part of you is connecting with a part of me. Isn't that amazing? But just to be safe, I'm gonna fill you up again."

"Mmm, yes," she sighed unable to lie still any longer. Her hips began to move again and soon she was writhing below him, working towards her next peak.

"You're so beautiful when you come for me, Mac," Will pressed a hot kiss on her lips, "so fucking beautiful. Come for me again. I want you to come all over my dick." Will watched amazed as he brought his fiancée to a second orgasm so quickly again. He was used to making her come two or three times a night through oral sex and manual stimulation besides intercourse but what he was observing now was new. Her orgasm seemed to never end as wave after waved rolled through her. He kissed her to muffle her cries, worried she might wake up the whole house. This was a different kind of multi-orgasmic where one orgasm led seamlessly to the next one. "Say you want my baby."

"KnockmeupBilly," she slurred her words.

"Oh, Mackenzie," he groaned nearing his point of no return. "I love you, honey, I love you so much."

"Love you, love you, love you," Mac whimpered breathlessly. She was writhing in the sheets, breathing heavily and gasping for air, as her whole body was consumed by a series of orgasms. Her pussy squeezed his cock and sent him over the edge a second time.

"Oh fuck, I'm coming inside you," he wheezed as more semen poured out of his cock in mostly weak dribbles. His second ejaculation was a lot less powerful but by no means less enjoyable for him. "So much come, Mackenzie," he groaned and looked deeply into her eyes, "not a single drop is going to waste until you conceive."

When his cock became too sensitive, he pulled out and played with her clit with his fingers instead, while his mouth latched onto her nipples. Somewhere around number four - or was it six? He admitted freely that he'd lost count because she was so damn sexy coming like that, it was a real distraction - she begged him to stop. 

"Please, Will. No more," she whimpered, "I can't. Hurts. Everything's getting too sensitive."

He stopped immediately and withdrew carefully from her. He rolled onto his side and put his hand on her stomach hesitantly, "Is that okay?"

She just nodded, panting heavily. Her eyes were still closed but she turned her head to where his voice was coming from. "Luvyou," she mumbled.

Will chuckled and molded his body around hers as he snuggled up to her side.

"That was unbelievable, Mac. So hot I can't even put it into words."

"Mmmhmmm," her lips turned up in a goofy smile as she inched a little closer to him. Will watched her sluggish movements amused. She was completely out of it.

"Are you gonna pass out on me?" He asked her concerned, as he brushed back her sweat-drenched bangs.

"Maybe," she mumbled and reached out blindly for him. Will caught her hand and pulled her into a tight embrace. Mac rested her head on his shoulder with a satisfied sigh, as Will slipped his thigh between her legs. "Perfect," she purred.

"Are you ok?"

"That one time!" Mac whined and rubbed her nose against his skin. 

"You say that like it was a fluke."

"It was," she insisted, "and it happened years ago! And for the record, I didn't _actually_ pass out, I was just... merely...  exhausted."

"Of course," he humored her, "and the only reason you didn't _not pass out_ more often was because I went easy on you while we were together."

She snorted, "Prove it!" 

Will immediately rose to the challenge and started kissing her neck.

"Sheesh! Not now!" She complained, "Just give me a minute, Billy."

They lay together in silence for a little while, basking in their post-orgasmic glow. Slowly, Mackenzie's breathing returned to normal.

"I can feel your heart beating against mine," Will observed curiously. "I've really missed that. Thud... thud... thud..." he counted along, "better than counting sheep."

"Mhm," Mac mumbled drowsily.

"Get some rest, honey," Will kissed her temple. "I can still prove my virility to you tomorrow morning."

A sarcastic snort was all the response he got from his fiancée, before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"You look like you're wishing for the ground to open up and swallow you whole," Barbara looked at her daughter amused.

"I don"t think I've felt this embarrassed since I accidentally told half the world I'm a cheater." Mac laughed nervously as she ran her fingers through her bangs.

"You don't have to be mortified, sweetheart. Sex between a married couple is a completely natural and healthy thing."

"Mum!" Mac flushed even more. "Please, stop talking... just, please?"

"You're not fifteen anymore, Mackenzie. You're a married woman now. Would be a bit hypocritical of your father and me, if we forbade you from having sex in our house, when we're looking forward to more grandkids. I'm just glad for you that William's age doesn't seem to be a factor in that regard. Now your father, on the other hand..."

"Oh _my God!_ **Mum**!" Mac interrupted her mother, gripping her head chagrined. "You seriously have to stop talking! Like right now!" She suddenly felt a very strong desire to trade places with Will. Anything to end this embarrassing conversation.

"What?" Her mother cocked her head amused, "You think you were an immaculate conception?"

"IVF," came Mac's quick repartee.

"Wasn't really around back then." Barbara deadpanned.

Older McHale 2, younger McHale nil.

Mackenzie slumped her shoulders in defeat, "Oh my God, I never thought I'd ever say this but I envy Will in his jail cell."

"Oh come on, Mackenzie, when did you turn into such a prude?"

"I'm not a prude," Mac defended herself, "there's just a line that shouldn't be crossed between parents and children. Ever. And I don't think I'm on my own on this. Or how'd you like talking about Grandma and Grandpa having sex with each other?" 

Both women shuddered.

"Okay, darling, point taken. I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just want you to know that you can come talk to me about anything, including all the gross details about pregnancy you don't want to freak William out with because you'll be afraid he won't find you sexy anymore. When I had you, your father received a proud pat on the back from your grandfather, while your grandmother looked at me horrified, as if I had just embarrassed the whole family with my late pregnancy. Apparently, my eggs were supposed to shrivel up along with my dried-up vagina when I turned fourty but I must have missed that fine print in the family newsletter."

"That's more than I ever wanted to know about you and dad," Mac muttered and wondered how many sessions with Habib it would take her to recover from that mental image.

"All I'm saying is, Mackenzie, if you and Will have marital problems, you won't fall on deaf ears. So whatever it is that you feel you can't discuss with me, I promise I won't judge."

"Fine," Mac sighed resigned.

"As long as he doesn't want you to do anything kinky in bed, then you're on your own. You're right, there're some things a mother should never know..."

"Alright, alright," Mac caved, rolling her eyes. Anything to put an end to this embarrassing conversation. "We hit a little roadblock in the fertility department, that's all."

"Is William shooting blanks?"

"No," Mackenzie blushed a little again, "it's me."

"Oh, darling, what's wrong? Too much stress? I keep telling you that you work too hard."

"I didn't tell you at the time because you were already so worried about me and I didn't want to upset you any further..."

"Mackenzie," her mother held a warning tone.

"There were some complications," Mac cleared her throat, "after the stabbing I mean."

"You said the knife missed all your vital organs."

"And it did," Mac reassured her mother quickly before she jumped to conclusions about a life-threatening condition, "but the tip of the knife broke off and nicked my left ovary."

Barbara gasped horrified as her hand flew to her mouth.

"It sounds worse than it was. The Army doc in the field hospital in Fallujah removed it and patched me up as well as he could."

"I thought you got stabbed in Islamabad?"

"I did, they didn't catch it there."

"They didn't..." her mother huffed angrily, "what kind of charlatans can get a medical license there?"

"Mum, don't get upset. I've made peace with it. And Will and I are seeing this fertility specialist who's positive she can stabilize my cycle so we can conceive naturally."

"So they didn't do a full hysterectomy?"

"No," Mackenzie shook her head, "they only removed the mangled left ovary." 

Her mother blinked speechlessly at the screen, trying to digest the information her daughter had just dumped on her.

"Mum?" Mac called out, when the silence became unbearable. "Mummy!"

Lady McHale swallowed audibly, before she replied hoarsely, "I so wish I was there to hug you right now. If I could reach through this screen and..." Her voice broke.

"It's okay, mum. I'm fine. I've had three years to come to terms with what happened."

"Still," her mother sighed heavily and sniffled, "my poor baby."

"I'm all right, mum. I promise." Mac took a deep breath, "Please stop crying or you'll make me cry and I'm all cried out. I don't think I have any tears left after last night without Will."

"Oh sweetheart," Barbara's heart ached even more for her daughter. First the fertility issues, then the problems with the source, now an abandoned bride with a husband in jail. Her youngest one certainaly didn't have it easy these days. "Does he know?"

"Yes, we talked about it when we got engaged."

"And how's he handling it?"

"He's a saint, mum," Mac smiled. "And trust me he hasn't had it easy with me the last few months. I'm on hormone therapy, so sometimes my emotions can get all out of whack but he's taking it all in stride. He's been nothing but supportive."

"He's a good man, your William."

"I know," Mac smiled, "it's why I married him." 

* * *

Will and Mackenzie were basking in the afterglow of a particularly rigorous round of morning sex. The French doors of their beachfront bungalow were wide open, letting the fresh sea breeze in. Mac was still-half draped over his body, where she'd slumped over exhausted after riding him into oblivion. Will's fingers drew lazy patterns on her bare back, while they gazed out past their infinity pool terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the distant horizon. Will had insisted on a quiet romantic getaway this Thanksgiving and Charlie had graciously given them the whole week off. This was how they found themselves on this small island in the middle of paradise, getting reacquainted with each other.

"So," Will cleared his throat, "are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

"You wanna talk about Brian now?!?" Mac mumbled exasperatedly into his chest, which she was using as a pillow.

"What?" He looked at her aghast, "Of course, not."

"But I really don't wanna talk about Genoa now, either. Can't we just lie here, enjoying our post-coital bliss?"

He snorted, "That's what I kinda wanted to talk about..."

"You haven't changed your mind, have you?" She lifted her head groggily.

"God, no, absolutely not!" He reassured her quickly and hummed content, "I can't wait to marry you."

"Good, 'cause you can't fuckin' take back a proposal."

"Can we just focus on the part where I kept the ring to eventually propose to you instead of the reason why I bought it in the first place?"

"You were the one who wanted to talk about the elephant in the room." 

"Not _that_ elephant." He grumbled. 

"We're gonna have to colour code them," Mac deadpanned. "So which elephant did _you_ want to talk about?" 

"The one where we haven't really been using any contraception for three weeks? I know you're not on the pill anymore because I haven't left your side all day and haven't seen you swallow anything besides that humongous lobster last night. Nor have I used any condoms, so..." He trailed off, letting his words sink in.

"Oh," Mac swallowed hard.

"Obviously I'm okay with the risk but maybe we should be a little bit more careful until the wedding?" He thought back to the conversation he had years ago with Mac's dad, in which the ambassador had made it very clear what he thought of shotgun weddings. "I must admit it would be nice to spend a little time alone together, just the two of us, before we have little rugrats vying for our attention." She tensed in his arms and he knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing. "I'm serious, Mac, I'm all in. I know I was the one dragging my feet last time but I'm ready to find out what the hype about fatherhood is all about. With _you_."

Mac felt the walls of the bungalow closing in on her. She let go of him and got out of bed as quickly as she could. Despite the cool ocean breeze, the air felt stuffy and sticky and she became convinced she'd suffocate if she didn't manage to get out in the open soon. Will watched speechlessly, as she slipped hastily into her silk robe and fled through the French doors out onto the terrace. What the hell had just happened? He thought that was what she'd always wanted? A baby. With a heavy sigh, he rolled out of bed, too, and scrambled into his boxers before he followed her outside.

"Hey," he crouched down next to her, "you ok?"

Mackenzie kept her eyes closed and shook her head slightly.

"Did I say something wrong?" He rubbed her arm softly. 

"I can't do this right now."

"I'm sorry I upset you, honey."

"It's not you," Mackenzie pressed out just before a sob wrecked her body. He could tell she was fighting a losing battle with her tears.

"Talk to me, Mackenzie," he reached out to her helplessly, running his finger gently along her arm, "I want to help you but I don't know how. Tell me what to do."

"You can't help me, Will, no one can. I fucked up royally."

"What are you even talking about?" He sat down on the lounge chair by her legs.

"I screwed up, Billy." She whispered and her eyes fluttered open. "Big time. You're going to hate me because I've ruined everything." She cast her eyes down ashamed.

"Nonsense, honey," he leaned forward and put his finger under her chin, lifting her head, until he could look into her eyes. "I love you, Mackenzie, and nothing can ever change that. I don't know what you did or didn't do that has you in such inner turmoil but I promise you it's not nearly as bad as you think. You know why?"

"I'm so sorry, Billy," she sobbed as tears started streaming down her cheeks.

"Because we're in this together, sweetheart. Let me share this burden, whatever it is, with you and you'll see we can weather any storm." With his other hand, he rubbed her arm comfortingly and recoiled in shock when she flinched. His heart shattered into a million pieces. Was she scared of his reaction? There were exactly three fundamental issues they'd never see eye to eye on, which had led to many heated fights in their relationship repeatedly, and based on their earlier conversation he was pretty darn sure neither capital punishment nor immigration reform lay at the bottom of this. That only left... "Are you..." He swallowed hard. "Did you have...," he licked his lips, unsure how to frame his question best. He took a deep breath and just asked, "Are you trying to tell me you had an abortion when we were together?"

"What?" Her eyes flew open and she looked at him horrified. 

"Was it _his_?" He tried to put the puzzle pieces together. It would explain why she'd completely lost it.

"No!" She shook her head completely bewildered. 

"Okay, so if it wasn't his..."

"No, Billy!" She shook her head emphatically now, "Never!"

"It's okay if you did, I mean it's **not** _okay_ obviously," Will struggled with the right words, "but I promise I won't get mad if you decided to terminate the pregnancy after we broke up. I wish you hadn't but I'm at least trying to understand, given our situation... I didn't exactly offer you any reassurances that I was father of the year material when I shut you out completely. Was that the reason you kept calling and e-mailing me so relentlessly? To tell me we were having a baby?" 

"I wouldn't have let you off the hook that easily if there had been a child involved. For all our faults and mistakes, we loved each other back then, so any baby would've been conceived out of love. Do you really think I could just get rid of someone you and I've created? Without even telling you?"

"No," Will shook his head, "of course not. Though I wouldn't know since I behaved like such a jerk and deleted your voicemails and e-mails without reading them."

If she didn't have an abortion, then..."Oh God, no!" Suddenly there was a lump in his throat and tears welled up in his eyes. She'd lost it and it was all his fault. He had abandoned her and stressed her out with his callous attitude, so much that she miscarried. "I'm so sorry, honey," he bumped their heads together softly, "it's all _my_ fault! If I hadn't treated you like shit, you wouldn't have lost our baby."

"Oh Billy, don't blame yourself," Mac framed his jaw and kissed him softly, "I know you were thinking that I may have been pregnant when we broke up but I swear I wasn't. I would've definitely found a way to tell you, even if security had had to drag me from your building kicking and screaming. So no, I didn't have an abortion or a miscarriage." She sighed frustrated because she wanted to tell him, knew she had to tell him but the right words wouldn't come. He would be so devastated. "Will, I can't really get pregnant anymore, I won't be able to give you any children."

Her confession knocked the air out of his lungs and Will slumped back shocked, "What?"

She chuckled mirthlessly. "Ironic, isn' it? Now that you've finally come around on the topic of kids, I'm the one throwing a wrench in your plans." With her secret out, she couldn't hold her tears at bay any longer. "I'm so, so,  _so_ sorry, Billy, I never meant for this to happen."

"Of course not," Will hugged her tightly when she fell into his arms. He rocked her softly while she wept on his shoulder bitterly. "You can't control nature. These things just... happen." 

"You don't understand, Will," she mumbled into his skin, " _I'm_ responsible; if I hadn't gone to Afghanistan, this would've never happened."

"Islamabad," he muttered as he put two and two together finally. He'd never asked her directly about the incident; on the one hand because he felt guilty for the part he'd played in her self-inflicted exile, on the other hand because he felt she would tell him on her own terms one day. Now it seemed like the day had finally caught up with them. He'd been prepared for gory, literally gut-wrenching details but not that kind of heartbreaking truth.

"The stabbing," he whispered and she just nodded as she held on tighter to him. Will was completely overwhelmed by the situation. There was absolutely nothing he could say or do to make this better for her. He had trouble finding a silver lining for himself. They'd never have children of their own. He'd only ever wanted _Mac's_ children. They could adopt but would it be the same? Would he be able to love them like his own? Of all the curveballs he'd expected life to throw at them, this hadn't been one of them. What he did know, though, was that none of this was her fault and he needed to keep telling her that until she actually believed it. He pressed his lips against her temples and whispered, "I love you. We'll get through this. Maybe we adopt or maybe we use a surrogate. But even if we end up childless, I'm still going to be the luckiest man alive because I get to spend the rest of my life with you." Fresh tears spilled over her eyelashes when she listened to his words of love and reassurance. "You didn't go there to get killed or rendered infertile, Mackenzie," he brushed his lips over her temple once more before he pulled back. His hands reached slowly for the belt of her bathrobe. He looked at her to make sure it was okay to open it but she could barely even meet his eyes. He parted the silky material and brushed his fingers lightly over her scar. The army surgeons had done a crude job of patching her up in the field hospital, the best they could probably do under the circumstances. Gingerly he traced the zig-zag line of pink flesh across the left side of her stomach.

"When the group of Marines we were embedded with wrapped up their tour in Afghanistan, our crew went home with them. Jim and I, however, wanted to cross over into Pakistan and stay in Peshawar until we could join the next unit. 2009 was a tricky year for US-Pakistani relations as drone strikes increased and the Pakistani tried to negotiate peace with the TTP. We'd been there for about four months, when our translator told us about the Shiite protests in Islamabad. Needless to say, Jim and I had to cover it for CNN. When we got there, it had already turned into a free-for-all."

She paused and took Will's hand, holding it over her scar. "Honestly, I don't think it was even meant for me. I was shoved around a lot in the chaos while I was trying to find Jim. Suddenly someone pushed me - right into the blade. It was an old kirpan that belonged to a Sikh. He was a kid really. I'll never forget the horrified look on his face. Like he couldn't believe it had actually happened. Classic case of wrong time wrong place. They're only allowed to use them for self-defense or to protect others in grave danger. I think he may have drawn it to guard me when the crowd turned violent on the streets. For a moment we both just stood there, staring at each other in disbelief. Then he panicked and yanked out the dagger. I was in shock and couldn't move. I remember watching him run away scared before I looked down and saw the red spreading on my clothes."

"How'd you get out?"

"Jim found me. I must've stumbled my way out of the crowd. How I didn't get stamped to the ground and trampled to death I'll never know. Maybe Jim carried me to safety?"

"You don't know?"

She shook her head, "He doesn't like talking about it and my memory gets very spotty. I was in and out of it for a while, probably due to the massive blood loss. When I woke up in the hospital, they told me the good news that the blade had missed all my vital organs and main arteries. I felt surprisingly good, considering I'd just gotten shived, but Jim was scared shitless. So when I was released from hospital after about three weeks, he flat out refused to go back to Peshawar. He just wanted to get out of there."

"Smart kid," Will commented.

"Jimmy's such a wuss!" Mac rolled her eyes, "One little stab wound on me and he's ready to throw in the towel."

Will raised his eyebrows, looking at the zig-zag line on her left side that almost reached her navel. "Is there any way this story doesn't end with Jim as the hero?"

"No," Mac admitted contritely. He knew her too well. "It looks a lot worse than it was, probably because technically it's two scars."

"Two?!?"

"I'm just getting to that part," Mac explained. "I still had four months left on my contract, so I decided to join another news crew in Fallujah and cover the withdrawal of our troops in Iraq. I still had lots of connections from my time in the Green Zone and I figured it might be a comparatively safer choice to Peshawar. I released Jim from his contract early and told him to go home but, of course, he insisted on following me. We spent about a week shadowing marines training Iraqi police when I started to feel a little pain in my stomach. I didn't think much of it at first, just the scar pulling, you know?" She glanced up at Will.

"The Pakistani surgeons miss something?" He looked at her knowingly.

"Mhm," Mac nodded, "the tip of the blade."

"What?!?" Will stared at her horrified.

"It must have broken off when the kid yanked out his dagger. I don't know how it happened, maybe it didn't show on the x-rays, maybe they didn't do any. Doesn't matter in the end. There were reports on an underground group movement forming in one of the districts, getting ready to take over as soon as we'd hand over full responsibility to Iraqi law enforcement. Naturally we smelled a story and went to investigate with a group of marines. Everything was fine until I felt this really sharp, excruciating pain in my abdomen. I just doubled over literally. Everyone had thought I'd been hit and ducked for cover, except for Jim, the idiot, who ran over to me. That's when the insurgents struck. They opened fire and hit Jim in the ass, which he's never going to let me hear the end of, by the way. Luckily, the marines were already poised to take out the attackers and nobody was killed. Our guardian angels must have worked overtime that morning because we were this close to walking into an ambush and dying." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart for good measure.

Nina had gotten it wrong, Will scoffed mentally, it wasn't Pakistan and she hadn't gotten anyone almost killed. If anything she'd probably saved some lives that day because she'd robbed the insurgents of the element of surprise and put everyone on guard. 

"They rushed Jim and me to the next field hospital, where the army docs were completely confounded by the lack of entry wounds and blood on my body. By that time I was just a whimpering mess, I couldn't sit, stand or lie without pain. They saw my fresh scar and I explained about the stabbing. They put two and two together and, indeed, the x-ray showed a foreign body lodged into my left ovary. They prepped me for surgery immediately and tried to save some of it but the damage was too great by then. The surgeon told me afterwards that it was a very close call because some of the tissue had started to turn necrotic, which was causing the hellish pains. They had no other choice but to remove the whole organ, and considering the risk of infection they removed my IUD as well. He reassured me that I'd be able to lead a completely normal life with only one ovary, claimed it's like losing a kidney. The only problem would be conception. He warned me that it would be twice as hard for me to become pregnant. If I didn't succeed within five years of trying, I should consider myself barren for all intents and purposes. He actually used that word." She bristled.

Will, who'd been listening attentively the whole time, asked, "If there's a left ovary, does that mean there's a right one, too?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Is it still working?"

"Sporadically. They explained to me after surgery that I would most likely stop ovulating and menstruating regularly every month, since the left and right ovary usually alternate."

"Good, we'll do ivf then. You've still got the right equipment we just need a little assistance with maintenance. Not quite the romantic way I've always pictured me knocking you up but if it gets the deed done."

"In vitro fertilization isn't a guaranteed success, you know that, right? I mean after they fertilize my egg with your sperm in a petri dish, they still have to implant the embryo in my womb."

"Zygote."

"What?"

"It's a zygote, not an embryo at that stage."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"No, I mean how the fuck do you know that but not that women have two ovaries?"

"Do you know how many testicles men have?"

"They come in pairs just like my ovaries and yours are very nice, big and _firm_  specimens."

"Thank you," he smiled bashfully, "and I read."

"What?" She frowned confused. "What does the size of your balls have to do with... oh you mean the zygote thing."

"What does your OB/GYN say about all this?"

Mac avoided his eyes, "Didn't really become relevant until now, did it?"

Will frowned, "Not relevant? This is your fucking health we're talking about, Mackenzie!"

"Fine, I'll ask Sloan whom she's seeing and make an appointment when we get back."

"You'll ask Sloan for a recommendation..." He glared at her angrily. This just kept getting better and better! She hadn't seen a doctor since she came back? "Have you had at least a follow-up appointment with an internist or surgeon or whatever kind of doctor treats stab wounds? Civilian or otherwise."

"What for?" She looked at him icyly, "It wasn't like you wanted me back."

"To get a second opinion, to make sure your body's healing, to... I don't know," he sighed frustrated, "make sure you're not secretly dying right under my nose?"

"Didn't get the impression you cared these past five years," she shot back.

"Okay, I deserved that." Will cast his eyes down. "Of course, I care," he spoke quietly, "I've always cared even when I wished I didn't."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "that was uncalled for."

"No," he shook his head, "let's get it all out. I'm so, so sorry for how I've treated you but I promise you I'll spend the rest of my days making it up to you."

"You were lashing out because you were hurting so badly and didn't know how to deal with it. I had it coming; I did a horrible, unforgivable thing to you and God's punishment was swift and direct."

"What?" He looked at her appalled.

"Let the punishment fit the crime." She resigned.

"That's nuts, Mackenzie! You can't possibly think you deserve..." Will's voice cracked. This was insane! All the petty acts of retaliation he'd doled out to her in a desperate attempt to make her feel his pain, and she'd been punishing herself more than he ever could. "Despite all the shit I've put you through, I've never, _never ever_ , wished for something like that to happen to you." He swallowed hard, "I don't know why you've put up with me since you came back but I'm so very glad you stayed, Mac."

"I walked away once without a fight, I wasn't gonna make the same mistake twice. If you'd been truly over us, you wouldn't have put up so much of a fight. So as long as there was a chance for us..." She smiled at him shyly, "I was just waiting you out till you figured it out for yourself. If I'd known what a slow learner you are, Mister 'I graduated college at nineteen'..."

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her engagement ring. "I know this ring isn't a fix all for everything that went wrong between us but it's a promise I'll work on my part every day. I'm rededicating the rest of my life to making all your dreams come true, so when we get back we'll meet with a fertility specialist to see what our options are."

"Don't get your hopes up, Will. You know how I've always been a little irregular?"

"How could I forget?" He chuckled, "I had to go to the store in the middle of the night."

"And came back with the full shelf of personal hygiene articles for females!"

"What was I supposed to do? They come in different shapes and sizes," he shuddered, "winged and unwinged, with applicators and without! How's a guy supposed to make heads or tails of that?!?"

She leaned in for a kiss. "My hero," she mumbled against his lips.

"Damn right, I am."

"My knight in shining armor. Should've married you that night."

"Don Quixote you mean, Dulcinea."

"Well, your Dulcinea is damaged goods, honey. You'll be in no danger for more midnight pharmacy runs." 

"Don't say that," he pulled back. "I don't want to ever hear you refer to yourself as damaged again. You're perfect, Mackenzie, even with all your little imperfections, you're nothing but perfect to me. I love all your little quirks and I don't care if we end up using a surrogate, you'll always be the single most seductive, sexiest, attractive female I've ever laid eyes on."

"Just the other week you were comparing me to fungi."

"You were driving me crazy that day."

"When am I not?"

"Fair point," he leaned into her for another kiss, "no one drives me crazy like you do in or out of bed." 

* * *

"Mackenzie!" Her mother scolded her youngest, "How can you be so careless with your health?!? I raised you better!"

"Can we skip the lecture, mum?" Mac rolled her eyes, "Will has already laid into me."

"As he should! Playing fast and loose with your health like that! So what did the doctor say?"

"Turns out the information I got from the army doc was a little bit outdated."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you lose an ovary, the other one's supposed to pick up the slack for both of them. So most women remain completely unaffected, have regular periods, conceive naturally and have normal pregnancies."

"That's obviously not the case with you. Where's the good news?"

"Well, I've got a grumpy ovary, who's still a little pissed it lost its mate. So the doctor prescribed two rounds of hormone treatments to help regulate my cycle. I'm taking progesterone one week before my period should theoretically occur, so my uterine lining builds up properly. After five days I stop, so my body gets withdrawal symptoms and initiates the monthly bleeding like its supposed to do. Each round last two months. We started just before we came to visit you, hence the.." Mackenzie trailed off, not really keen on revisiting that particular part of the conversation.

"And is it working?"

"We had to up the dosage for the second round because the first round didn't go as hoped, but, yeah, we thought so until last month when I stopped getting my period again."

Her mother sighed heavily.

"Catherine, our doctor," Mac explained quickly, "thinks it's just just stress-related." 

"Watching your husband go to jail on the day of your wedding certainly will do that," Barbara McHale muttered.

"Yeah, but we're not ready to throw in the towel quite yet. We've got our honeymoon coming up in June and hopefully by then all legal troubles will have been resolved and the story's out and all this crap will be but a distant memory. When we get back we've got a follow-up appointment with Catherine scheduled and until then we'll see if my hormone levels restore itself and my period goes back to normal."

"Where are you going?" Her mother decided to change to a happier topic.

"Seychelles," Mac swooned, "Will splurged on a private residence for us on one of the smaller islands, personal staff to wait on us hand and foot included, but I think I'm just going to slip them a couple Bens so we can have the place all to ourselves for three weeks."

Her mother chuckled, "Three weeks?"

"What?"

"You and Will all by yourselves on a small, deserted island for three weeks? I'll believe it when I see it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Honey, you start to fidget when you can't get proper reception on our estate because you're afraid you miss something important in the news cycle."

"Do not," Mac rolled her eyes at her mother, which made Lady McHale laugh only harder. "I can totally let go and relax. Besides, this is different."

"How so?"

"I've got a husband now. It worked well last Thanksgiving. We didn't miss the newsroom at all the few days we were there. It'll be nice to get away from it all again for a little while. Spend some time together, just the two of us, working on baby McAvoy."

"We'll see if your enthusiasm survives the whole three weeks. Do you have any idea how many annoying habits you discover in your spouse on average while you're on holidays? I'd probably strangle your father if I was cut off from civilization with only him for that long."

Mac's face fell.

"But you'll be fine, darling. You're newly-weds. You've got that little project of yours," her mother winked. "Everything's great and exciting that first year. Like one big bubble of love," Lady McHale smiled wistfully, remembering fondly the early years of her marriage.

"What burst the bubble for you and daddy?"

"You brother," Lady McHale deadpanned. "That boy was nothing but trouble right from the start."

Mackenzie chuckled, "I'm not sure The Old Lady would entrust him all that money if they knew about the stunts and cons he pulled as a youngster. Good thing you don't have to list family for job references."

"Do yourself a favour, sweetheart, and have girls."

"With Will's over-protectiveness? Are you insane?" Mac scoffed, "He'd worry himself into an early grave! He'd put her into bubble wrap the day she learns to walk and glare at the other toddlers on the playground if they as much as glanced the wrong way at her across the sandbox. I love Will, he's comfy and funny and useful, I'd like to keep him around for a couple more years if I can."

Her mother laughed out loud, "You know your father was pretty much the same when Fiona was born."

"What changed?"

"Well, Fiona changed him. She was such a tomboy and roughhousing with your brother by the time you were born, his reaction was just "meh" if you scraped your knee. But, boy the firs time Fiona did, I had to wrestle the phone from him before he could call an ambulance. And it was a really light scrape too, didn't even bleed, but that girl could cry bloody murder!"

"Still can," Mac deadpanned. Her oldest sister thought the entire world revolved around her and if things didn't go quite like she wanted, she could become mighty uncomfortable until she had her way. "I should call her and tell her about Will. We haven't chatted in a while. How are the boys?"

"Growing up too fast and looking forward to their New York adventure next month."

"Can't believe they've never been here before. Maybe Will can take them to a Jets game. They'd love that."

"Your father wouldn't object to a Yankees game with his newly minted son-in-law, either, I'm sure."

"Yeah, he'll have to go alone because Will won't set foot in Yankee Stadium. He's a Mets fan."

"Isn't that the team that always looses?"

"Something about the stadium?"

"He's afraid of Jimmy Hoffa's ghost?"

"No," Mac laughed out loud, "That's the old Giants Stadium."

"Right, right, I knew that."

"I think both teams played at Shea Stadium when he first moved to New York City and he used to take Mikey there. You know it's funny. I just realized we lived in the same city at the same time without ever crossing paths."

"Well, not to bring up the age difference, but you weren't really moving around in the same circles at the time."

"Yeah," Mac laughed, "it just struck me as peculiar." She flopped down on the bed and propped up a few pillows behind her back. "So how's the rest of the brood?" Mac asked as she relaxed into the pillows and listened to her mother share hilarious stories about her nieces and nephews.


	14. Someone Like You

Jackson rapped his knuckles on Will's doorframe, as he breezed in, "I need a favor."

The newscaster inclined his head, asking his EP to continue.

"I managed to double-book myself for tomorrow morning. Can you do the pre-tape interview with the chairwoman from the London bid committee for our series on the Olympics this week?"

"Sure."

"Even if you have to come in at seven in the morning? She's got a flight home before noon so we have to finish by 9.30 at the latest."

"You know we wouldn't have this problem if we had a capable senior producer we could dispatch at the crack of dawn," Will muttered.

"Funny you should mention it, I wrangled a concession out of Andrews to make room in our budget for a position next year."

"For real?" Will sat up in his chair interested.

"So real I'm meeting with someone who comes highly recommended for the job tomorrow before we tape your interview with Barbara Cassani."

Will scowled, "Were you trying to slip a new senior producer past me, Jack?"

"To be perfectly honest," Jackson let out a frustrated puff of air, "yes. I don't want you to scare her away."

Will looked positively offended, "Why'd I scare her away? I'm a perfectly nice guy. I'm affable and I've got the numbers to prove it."

"I'm serious, Will. I want her. Andrews calls her a rough diamond, waiting to cut her teeth in production. She's done some great work as a field producer for our London office, we're lucky she wants to come home stateside and is considering producing in the studio. She's in demand, she's got multiple interviews lined up tomorrow with ABC, CBS and NBC."

"She sounds..." Will looked less than enthused, "young."

Jackson sighed, "Just do the interview for me, Will. Please?"

"Alright, alright, but I want to meet her _before_ you hire her. I've got final approval," Will conceded, already losing interest and returning his attention to today's copy.

"Thanks, I'll type up the talking points after tonight's show and leave them on your desk for you to go over in the morning."

Will mumbled, "Great, I promise I'll come in early to take a glance at them before the pre-tape interview."

"And follow them!" George glared at his news anchor, "Don't just glance over them only to ignore them."

Will just rolled his eyes dramatically.

Jackson huffed frustrated.

"Don't worry, I'll leave a copy of my notes for you with Dax, so you'll know the general direction of the interview."

"Good," the EP looked appeased, "I'll just join you in the control room for the taping. Thanks, I owe you one, man."

Will just waved his hand dismissively, no longer listening.

* * *

_News Night_ 's star anchor lay on his bunk reminiscing. As he thought about his first encounter with Mackenzie almost ten years ago he twisted his wedding ring absentmindedly. They'd really come a long way. When Jackson brought in another whippersnapper who looked barely old enough to join college, let alone have graduated journalism school, into their newsroom, he'd been less than thrilled. And as a senior producer no less! Though, as highly recommended as she came from Andrews, she'd proved her money's worth within a week.

Under Jackson's guidance and with his continuous prodding, she'd become the best executive producer he'd ever worked with. He had the privilege of watching her grow into a consummate professional, and he still found it hard to believe that the excitable, spunky girl from then was now his incredibly hot and loving wife.

Will glanced at his watch, wondering when Mackenzie would come visit him today. The short hour yesterday wasn't nearly enough for him. God, what he wouldn't give right now if he could just take her in his arms and kiss her silly. He closed his eyes and imagined what if felt like when he ran his nose down her soft, soft skin as he kissed her neck.

Ten years, he sighed. Ten fucking years older, and she still found him attractive enough to marry him over all the rich, young, handsome hotshots in the city. God, how'd he ever get so lucky? He had a fucking wife now, and what was his first official action as a husband? Make her a prison widow. Well done, William, well done. You truly outdid yourself here.

* * *

Will McAvoy strolled into the lobby of CNN studios, nursing his travel mug.

"Look what the cat dragged in so early," the guard greeted the news anchor with a grin.

"Morning, Fred," Will put down his cup long enough to retort, "the early bird catches the worm."

"Or pneumonia in this weather," the security officer grumbled, nodding at the snowstorm outside. "Been a while since we last had a real blizzard."

"Figures I get called in early on a day like this to do a pre-tape interview because Jackson's double booked."

As if on cue, a cab pulled up at the curb outside. "Looks like you made it just in time."

Will glanced at his watch; she was half an hour early, too, so much for familiarizing himself with Jack's questions before the interview.

"There's a kind of poetic humor to interviewing the chairwoman of the London Olympic Committee about their bid for the 2012 Summer Games in the middle of a snowstorm," Will sighed as the men stared out the floor to ceiling windows. The backseat door opened curbside and the finest pair of stocking-clad legs Will had ever seen appeared in his field of vision.

"Damn," Fred almost forgot his manners and swallowed back a whistle, "bet you don't regret getting up early for _this_."

Will didn't reply immediately because he was holding his breath, waiting for the owner of the legs to appear. What he saw eventually took his breath away completely. Fred nearly fell off his chair, trying to scramble to his feet, straightening his suit. "Down boy," Will chuckled and patted the guard on his shoulder, before he made a beeline for the doors, "she's way out of your league."

"And just what do you think you're doing, McAvoy?"

"Why, holding the door open for the future Mrs. McAvoy, of course," the news anchor smirked.

"You know these are automatic, right?" The guard pointed at the opening doors as Will approached them.

"You're just jealous because you can't have her," Will rolled his eyes and used all his strength to override the automatic mechanism when the doors tried to close again after no movement was registered anymore.

"Got a newsflash for you, buddy," Fred nodded to the brunette, who was now thanking the driver profusely for lifting her heavy Louis Vuitton bag out of the trunk, "she's out of yours, too."

Will ignored the sneer, as held the door open. The stranger waltzed past the newsman, barely acknowledging his chivalry with a mumbled 'thank you'. The guard made a grunting noise from unsuccessfully smothering a snort. 

"Can I help you, Miss?" Fred asked the visitor politely.

"Please let her have an English accent," Will muttered under his breath, "please let her have an English accent."

"Yes, I have an appointment with George Jackson at," the brunette paused when a gust of wind blew in from outside, sweeping in a flurry of leaves and snowflakes.

"Yesss," Will hissed and closed his eyes briefly, unable to believe his luck. Fred just shook his head. 

She whirled around, "Excuse me, were you raised in a barn?"

"Actually," Will let go of the door startled and straightened up a little, "I did grow up on a farm in Nebraska."

"No shit?" The stranger grinned at the 'doorman'.

"Cross my heart, hope to die," Will held her stare.

"Well, you're in the big city now, farm boy, where we _close_ the doors."

"Oh," he crossed his arms and deadpanned, "but you see, here in the _New World_ we've come up with this really great invention called _automatic_ doors." He prayed they would close behind him, as if on command, but no such luck.

"What'd you hold them open for me then?" She looked at the 'doorman' puzzled.

Will deflated a little when he realized she'd won this round. To add insult to injury, the automatic doors shut with a loud screeching noise behind him, while she gave him the once-over skeptically. 

She turned back to the guard, "I know I'm terribly early but maybe there's a place where I could wait...?" 

"Jack sends his apologies," Will cut in and scuttled to the concierge desk. "He's double-booked this morning and asked me to do the interview instead." He offered his hand to her in greeting, "Hi, I'm Will."

"Mackenzie McHale. Oh," the stranger shook his hand dutifully, looking a little sheepishly, "you're Will McAvoy, the anchor." 

"Yes," Will grinned like a fool, holding her hand for a fraction longer than appropriate.

"Is there a place where I could get coffee until our meeting?"

"Sure, come on up," Will explained, "we've got some in the newsroom."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose on you. There was a problem with my flight, so I came here straight..."

"My pleasure," Will reassured her quickly.

She waited a few more beats but when he still didn't release her hand, she prompted him, "Shall we?"

"Yes," Will nodded but showed no sign of moving.

"Perhaps in your office?" She tried again.

"Yes," Will agreed and Fred rolled his eyes pitifully at the newsman. For someone who made his living talking on air, Will McAvoy sure seemed tongue-tied this morning.

"Would you mind watching my luggage?" Mackenzie turned her head to try her luck with the guard who swapped her bag for a visitor's pass. "Thank you."

While Mackenzie signed the visitor log, the doors to the lobby opened again. This time a woman in her thirties walked in. Will could overhear her thick American accent, as she spoke animatedly on her phone. She must be the overseas CNN colleague George considered for the senior producer position on their staff. Will was pleasantly surprised; she seemed a lot more experienced than he'd feared. Maybe with this one, they could hit the ground running and didn't have to start back at square one.

She hung up her phone and leaned over the concierge desk, "Good morning, I'm Barbara Cassani. I'm a little early but I'm meeting the EP of _McNews_ for an interview at 7.30."

"Ready?" The English brunette looked at Will amused, who blushed under her gaze. Great, now she probably thought he was checking out the other woman, when really he'd been assessing her professionally.

"One moment," he held up a finger and turned to his potentially new colleague, "Hi, Barbara, I'm Will McAvoy. We've heard already great things about you." He gave her a friendly handshake. "George should be here shortly, but I can show you to one of the conference rooms where you can wait for him in the meantime." 

"Oh, thank you, Mr. McAvoy," Ms. Cassani smiled at Will pleasantly, "but I've got to call London back anyway." Already, she dialled a number on her cell before she put the phone to her ear.

Satisfied, Will held out his hand to guide Mackenzie to the elevator bank, unable to keep himself from glancing at her every so often. She was simply beautiful. Her tall, athletic build made him wonder if she was a former Olympian and what cut her career short. Will peered at her well-toned calves. Perhaps a swimmer? Or an equestrienne? He sure wouldn't mind being mounted by those magnificent legs.

"So you're the managing editor of  _McNews_?" She inquired.

"Err, yes," came Will's embarrased answer, as he pressed the call button. 

"How long have you been a news anchor?"

"Since September 11."

"Ohhh," she nodded with recognition, "I remember that. I saw your coverage."

"You did?" He looked at her surprised. He didn't know ACN aired overseas.

"Of course," she nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you were great that day."

"Thank you," Will beamed at her.

"Can't have been easy." 

"No," he shook his head.

"Your first newscast no less," she prompted him.

"Yeah," Will's voice sounded a little rough, remembering that morning.

"What made you switch from ACN to CNN?" Mackenzie tried a question where he wouldn't be able to get away with a yes or no answer.

"My own show."

" _McNews_?"

"Yes, I was a weekend anchor before that."

Encouraged by his full sentence, Mackenzie asked, "So this is your first gig as managing editor?"

"Yes."

"Do you like working for CNN?"

"Yes."

"Gee, are you always this loquacious during your broadcasts, too?"

The ping of the elevator spared them another mono-syllabic answer. Will quickly stepped in, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor with great zeal. He felt a little weak in the knees. Not only did she have legs to die for, she used big words in a witty way, too. It was a real shame she had to catch a flight right after the interview, for he would've loved to find out what it felt like to have her perfect pair of legs wrapped around his hips while he tried to coax something more dirty out of her proper English mouth. Jesus Christ, man! Get a grip of yourself!

He cleared his throat and turned to her, "So what do you think are London's chances for winning the 2012 bid?" 

She seemed a little taken aback by his direct question. "You mean the Olympics?"

"Are you bidding on any other championships than the summer games?"

"I honestly wouldn't know," she confessed and Will frowned confused.

* * *

He opened his arms for a hug the minute he stepped into the visitor room. Mackenzie strode over to her husband quickly; however, instead of falling into his arms like everyone expected, she punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch," Will winced and pulled back surprised. "Gee, honey, I've missed you, too." 

Trevor, who locked the door behind Will, eyed their reunion curiously.

"I talked to my mother," Mackenzie glared at her husband.

"And she asked you to punch me for her?" He rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder.

"No, but she opened my eyes about the real reason you're doing this." She accentuated each of her next words with a well-placed slap to his chest, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Trevor stepped in before Will could react, "Mrs. McAvoy, I really have to ask you to refrain from hitting the prisoner."

Mac took a deep breath and stepped back, holding her hands up in surrender. If looks could kill, though, Will would drop like a fly. "Which part of 'you don't have to prove yourself to me anymore' didn't you understand?"

"Well, maybe I'm not doing this for you. Contrary to what you may be thinking, not everything in this world revolves around you, Mackenzie."

"I mean what the fuck, Will? Is this what it's gonna be like for the rest of our lives? You doubting yourself? Doubting me? Doubting us? What's it gonna take for you to get rid of your father's ghost?" 

Will's shoulders slumped forward with a heavy sigh.

"I wish you didn't feel like you have to go to prison for Neal to prove to me that you'll be a better father to our children than your old man was to you," Mac shook her head in resignation. "I thought we were past that."

"Isn't that what a real father does? Be there for his children when they need him? Protect them at all costs? Keep them out of harm's way and take the fall for them when they're up to their neck in trouble?"

"Don't you think you made that point a long time ago?" Mac tilted her head and studied her husband's face. "For Christ's sake, you practically raised Mikey when you were barely an adult yourself."

Will scoffed, "And I did such a wonderful job he couldn't wait for college. The ink on his diploma was barely even dry when he moved to Chicago. Hardly talked to me for years."

"He got into a good college, that's on you. You raised a decent human being, Will, when it wasn't even your job. He's successful and compassionate, happy and in a good place professionally and socially, what more do you want? Besides, you're on good terms now, that's what matters." Mackenzie tucked her hair back. "You don't have to do this, Will. Not for me and definitely not for yourself. You don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. You're a _good_ man, even my mother said so yesterday."

"Aren't you the one who's always insisting we're all like family in the newsroom." He looked at her with a challenge in his eyes, "You want me to give up the source? Because that's the only way they'll let me out of here."

"Of course not," Mac folded, "I just wish there was another way for you..." She trailed off when Will enveloped her in his big arms. "What about me, Will?" She whispered, "I can't do this without you. I need you, too."

"You're the strongest person I know," he countered.

"Well, maybe I don't _want_ to do it without you anymore."

He swayed them softly.

"I'm so tired, Will," she mumbled into his chest, "I'm so fucking tired of this shit. I just want you home. I want this all to be over. I want to argue over paint swatches with you and where the couch in the living room should go." She looked up at him with a thin sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I love you," Will said simply and lowered his head.

"I love you, too," Mac whispered before he caught her lips in a searing kiss.

They made out until Trevor cleared his throat politely. Will stepped back and took Mackenzie's hand to lead her to the spartan chair and desk combo.

* * *

Will McAvoy was over the moon. He currently found himself knee-deep in a spirited discussion about the pros and cons for holding the 2012 Summer Games in London. He'd anticipated the chairwoman to spout the usual canned soundbites about the Olympic spirit and national morale, and had accordingly prepared to bust her on her touchy-feely BS. Instead he was captivated by Mackenzie McHale's acute self-criticism, logical arguments and intelligent conversation just all around. Seriously, if she didn't have to jump on a plane the minute he wrapped up this interview, he'd ask her out right now.

"But don't you think there might've been a reason why investors have shied away from developing the Stratford area until now?" The news anchor followed up her latest statement with a question of his own. Jackson's talking points were pretty much useless at this point, she'd gone off script fifteen minutes ago.

"Absolutely, it will cost millions, if not billions, to recover the contaminated land from decades of dumping our industrial waste there."

Will reminded her, "The proposed budget for London 2012 is set at only $3.9 billions." 

"And half of it will go into developing the area at least. You're a smart guy, William, you know there are always contingencies for events like this. Costs have a tendency to explode once the bidding process is over and the real work starts."

The news anchor raised his eyebrows surprised, "Are you saying you expect the budget to climb higher?"

"Of course, Will. It's not just the environment that poses a critical problem. London's traffic is a very fragile ecosystem with congested lanes and outdated public transport. In order to make Stratford attractive to I.O.C. members and athletes, the city council will have to invest millions into infrastructure. It's a smart move to use the games to free up funds for the modernization of the tube and development of the area that would otherwise take decades. But where's the money coming from? We didn't suddenly grow 4 billion dollars richer over night. No, the funds will have to be relocated from other projects, like building much needed schools and hospitals. Honestly, I can understand why so many people oppose hosting the games. There are regions in England that need investments into the economy and infrastructure much more desperately than the south of the country."

Will listened fascinated to the chairwoman's self-criticism. He couldn't believe he got her to disclose all that information on the record without much prodding. George might even be inclined to air the interview in the B block as a tell-all exclusive. She wouldn't be chairwoman for long after their broadcast, though, once Tony Blair got wind of her critique. Pity, he kind of liked her and didn't want to cost her this job, but he was a journalist and he couldn't pass up a story like that.

"Do you cover a lot of sports?" She asked him out of the blue.

"Hm?"

"Sports coverage," she repeated, "do you do a lot of it?"

"Not really," he made a vague expression, "the usual I guess when something important happens. This is really more of a soft piece for our series on the Olympics to build up the hype for Athens next summer."

"I see," she nodded. "Not really a lot of breaking news in sports, is there?"

* * *

They sat across from each other, chatting in hushed tones to retain somewhat of their privacy.

"So," Will rubbed his shoulder, "is it still safe for me to travel to England or did your dad have me blacklisted with customs and border patrol?"

"You're fine," Mac rolled her eyes. "I totally botched telling them, though. Mum called me when they found out about you on the news. She caught me off-guard because I'd just gotten home from visiting you." 

"So you buried the lead?" Will guessed.

She nodded and explained to him how her parents had finally found out that their daughter was a married woman now.

"Rookie mistake," Will grinned, "happens to the best of us."

"So if they're upset with anyone, it's me for trying to hide it."

"To be fair you were kind of avoiding telling them..."

"With good reason," Mac protested. "I didn't know the Ambassador could be such a diva. Apparently I messed up his plans to have you wither under his critical gaze while he walked me down the aisle."

Will laughed out loud. "At least it's a step up from the rifle when I asked him for your hand in marriage."

She gaped at him speechlessly.

"Don't get upset. I didn't really go to your father for his permission. I know you'd never stand for that."

"Please tell me my father didn't threaten you with a gun while we visited them over Christmas because you broke my heart."

"He didn't."

"Oh, he's so gonna pay for that," Mac growled, clearly not believing a word out of her husband's mouth. "I told him in no uncertain terms that you're off-limits. I broke your heart way before you broke mine."

"He didn't, Mac," Will reiterated, "not this Christmas anyway."

"Not this..." She trailed off and looked at him confused.

"Remember the first time we visited your parents? Back when we were still together the first time around?" She nodded. "You went shopping with your mother while your dad took me hunting in the forest to try out the new rifle David got him for Christmas."

She looked at him amused now, "And you talked man to man about me?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. Mac just shook her head, smiling.

"We talked about my intentions with you while he loaded his gun. That's all. He looked me in the eye, told me what he thought about shotgun weddings and cocked his rifle. That's all I swear. We came to an instant understanding." He left out the part about the Ambassador's ritual with the bullets for his sons-in-law; there really was no reason to make her more upset with her father than she already was. He'd save that story for another day, when his father-in-law was long gone.

"You told my dad you wanted to marry me back then?" She looked at him dumbfounded.

"I may have said some things that could be construed as..." Will tried to talk himself out of it but realized it was futile, "...yes. I made my intentions regarding you clear with your dad. I know neither one of us needs permission to do what we want but knowing your dad... I didn't ask for your hand in marriage outright because I knew you'd be upset by the idea of two men trading you like a cow between two farms at the market place. I didn't want to offend the Ambassador, though, by not following proper protocol, so I let him know that his blessing would mean a lot because I couldn't ask you to marry me in good conscience if I knew it would cause a rift between you and your family."

In a flash, Mackenzie reached across the table, pulled her husband at his lapels close enough, so she could lay a thick one on him. "I love you."

"Good to know," he quipped, "I wasn't sure when you said yes on Friday."

"Stop wisecracking and kiss me like you mean it, before Officer Brown looks our way and breaks up my little love fest."

He kissed her passionately, savoring every nuance of their kiss. So did Mackenzie who couldn't contain a soft moan that caught Trevor's attention. Will's guard glanced toward the couple and cleared his throat politely again. Will held up his finger to signal his compliance while still negotiating one more minute of blissful contact with his wife. Slowly, the couple pulled back form each other, stealing a few more quick kisses, until they were back on their separate ends of the table.

* * *

"So what did you think of her?" Jackson wanted to know his anchor's opinion about the first candidate for the senior producer's position.

"She's passionate about the work we do, a consummate, full-blooded journalist," Will started singing Mackenzie praises. "A little too idealistic about doing the news but she'll learn the ropes of our business fast. I have absolutely no doubt she'll make a great EP one day."

"Good," George nodded satisfied, "I can stop looking then."

"You can't hire her."

The EP looked at the news anchor dumbfounded, "You just said she's perfect for the job."

"She is," Will reassured his EP, "but she can't work in our newsroom."

"Why? You don't think she'll fit in well with the others? You spent more time with her than I did but I didn't get the impression she was difficult to work with."

"No, she'd fit in great with us socially and politically. The kids would love her, she's got real leadership skills. She'll be a great teacher, too."

"Then I don't understand what the problem is," Jackson frowned, "why can't I make her an offer?"

"Because I want to date her."

"Come again?"

"I want to ask her out," Will clarified, "on a date and I can't do that if she's working for me."

"Let me get this straight," George eyed his anchor incredulously, "you want me to pass up the ideal applicant for our senior producer position so you can romance her?"

"Yes!" The news anchor nodded relieved. He knew Jack would understand.

"Can you even hear yourself?" 

Or apparently not. The two men engaged in a quiet and prolonged stare down.

"You can't veto Mackenzie because you want to get into her pants."

"Not just in her pants," he corrected his EP, "though in my defense, did you see her legs?"

"Well, you have to find yourself another pair of legs!"

"I don't want another pair," Will protested. "This one comes with razor-sharp intellect. She's brilliant, Jack, outspoken and funny and witty and likable and amazing just overall." 

"Fuck," Jackson drawled when he realized the newscaster was about two minutes away from falling head over heels in love with his new senior producer. "You can't have her, Will."

"We'll find another senior producer who's just as good. Besides, do you really want to hire the first person we interviewed for the job without checking out the other applicants first?" 

"You don't understand, Will," George tried again, keen to spare his friend undue heart ache, "the only reason she learned of the opening with us was through a common friend over at _Newsweek_ , where her boyfriend works."

"Her boyfriend," Will repeated. She had a boyfriend? Of course, she did. Women like her hardly remained single for more than a minute. Any man with a healthy set of eyes and half a brain would snatch her up in a heartbeat and, if he knew what was good for him, never let go of her again.

"They're serious, Will," Jackson gave him a sympathetic look, "she's moving to D.C. to be closer to him."

Will sighed heavily; the disappointment etched into his face. "Alright, make her an offer she can't refuse. She calls Diane Sawyer by her first name, don't let CBS and NBC beat us."

* * *

"I've been wondering," Will began, "do you know what Jackson's doing these days?"

"He's running the news division for CTV, why?"

"Just wondering," he shrugged his shoulders. "I've been thinking about you and how we met. A lot. And I lost touch with him after I left CNN in the wake of our break-up. I talked to him once or twice at the Correspondents Dinner afterwards."

"They're doing well, all four of them. He's got two girls now. They moved to Canada to be closer to his mother-in-law when she got sick. I think she has Alzheimers or something like that. He likes it a lot up there."

Will smiled, "That's good to hear."

"Do you think we should've invited them to the wedding?"

"We didn't invite any of the others from our old newsroom."

"Don was there."

"Don's," Will huffed, "well, Don."

"You still remember our first encounter?"

"Of course," he chuckled,"you mistook me for the doorman."

"And you thought I was the chairwoman of London's bid committee for the Olympics," she countered.

"Your accent confused me," Will defended himself, "I didn't expect the chairwoman of the London committee to be an American."

"That's what you get for not reading your EP's notes." She paused and then protested, "Hey! I'm an American, too."

"I would have but _someone_ got there early." He looked at her accusingly. "And I didn't know that then."

"My flight was delayed so I didn't arrive in D.C. until the morning of my interview. I took a cab to the studio straight from the airport instead of going to Brian's first. You didn't think it strange that the chairwoman brought luggage to a TV interview?"

Will shook his head, "George told me that we had to tape the interview early because she had to catch a flight back to London before noon. It was a last minute squeeze-in. I remember because it snowed that day and the whole time I interviewed you I was praying we'd have a blizzard and all flights would be grounded so you'd have to spend the night in D.C and I could ask you out."

"You wanted to take me out for dinner?" Mac looked at her husband surprised.

He nodded, "I even told George he couldn't hire you because I wanted to date you."

Mackenzie's smile froze and she swallowed hard. 

"I know that sounds horrible but I knew you'd get a job with one of the networks in a heartbeat. You were that good, Mac."

"I thought I'd bombed the job interview," she confessed. "I thought you were testing me with all your sports questions because you'd heard sports and the economy were my weak spots." She frowned and tilted her head sideways, studying her husband's face. "You really _were_ in love with me from the moment we met." He didn't respond and looked down a little sheepishly. She smoothed her thumb over his wedding band and they fell into a heavy silence. 

"I finally told my mother," she played with his fingers nervously, "about Grumpy Earl."

The pithy nickname Will had given Mac's remaining ovary, which steadfastly refused its cooperation, now came in handy. He glanced at Trevor, who leaned in a corner, inspecting his fingernails and trying his hardest to give them at least the semblance of some privacy. Officer Brown was completely oblivious to the real nature of Will and Mackenzie's conversation.

"She didn't know?" Will raised his eyebrows surprised. 

"No," Mac shook her head, "I told you you're the first and only one I talked to about it."

"I thought that precluded your mom and Jim."

"Why'd I tell Jim about Grumpy Earl?" She looked at him bewildered.

"I don't know because he was there and you seem to share everything with him."

The corner of her mouth twitched a little, "Are you jealous of Jimmy?"

"No," Will balked at her insinuation.

She grinned and the perfect upper row of her pearly whites grazed her lower lip, "You're adorable, Billy. A terrible liar, but incredibly cute." Her nose wrinkled with her smile. He rolled his eyes at her. He couldn't help that smug feeling of satisfaction that there was something about Mackenzie McHale from her time in Afghanistan that James Harper was not privy to. Something she'd shared with him instead of the kid. It was childish and immature of him but, damn, did it feel good.

"I didn't want to worry mum; my parents were already such a mess after my stabbing. If I'd told her, she would've insisted I recuperate in London with them. I just wanted to get back to Atlanta and work there to distract myself from what happened."

"Atlanta," Will scoffed, "you're too good for them."

She just looked at him and he understood. She'd avoided New York because of him, and D.C. held too many memories for her to ever find happiness there. She ended up in the capital anyway, trying to find solace at the bottom of a bottle for a while.

"How'd your mother take it?"

"About as well as you did," she gave him a half-smile. "Luckily Concorde's been out of business for years or I would've found her waiting on our doorstep this morning."

Will grinned as he listened to his wife summarize her conversation with her mother, though she left out the embarrassing details. That sounded just about right. He hadn't met Mackenzie's parents often, but it had only taken one dinner with the McHales for him to figure out there was absolutely nothing in this world Mackenzie's parents wouldn't do for any of their children. 

"We dodged a real bullet with your mother at the wedding. There's no way she would've been able to keep her emotions in check watching you walking down the aisle. Seeing her cry would've made you cry, too, which would've made me cry. If I cry, Charlie does, then Sloan would start and drag Don down with her. And before we'd know it, we'd need a fucking boat."

"Prepare yourself for a lot of well-meant advice when they come visit us in June. Since we 'stole' the wedding planning from mother, she's now devoting all her energy to her long-awaited grandchildren from us."

"Oh no," Will moaned.

"Oh yes," Mac sighed, "she already asked me if you wear boxers instead of briefs because they improve sperm quality."

"Like we didn't know that before," he rolled his eyes, "meanwhile we know for a fact my guys are doing the best they can."

"Just indulge her a little, please," she looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, alright," he relented, "but only until she's over the missed wedding."

"Yeah, good luck with that, buddy." Mac rolled her eyes. "They're on a roll. First my parents made fun of our apartment, dad calls it a dungeon; then mum teased me about my new name."

"What's wrong with Mackenzie McAvoy?" He looked offended.

"Nothing," she shook her head, "except Rebecca and mummy think we're crazy."

"Did you explain to them about the 'Mc' and the ..."

"Yeah, that's _why_ they think we're lovebirds gone haywire," she interrupted him, "Mum says if I wanted to take your name, I should just do it, instead of making up stupid excuses about merging names. And Rebecca thinks it's a ploy from you to avoid the administrative and legal hassle to get your own name changed."

"That's bullshit and I hope you told her that. If I changed my name, we'd have to completely rebrand our show. We can't afford that right now, given the legal and financial situation we're in at the moment."

"It wouldn't make sense even if we were number one in the ratings. Besides, who cares what they think?" She shrugged her shoulders, "Let them think what they want. We know what it means, and so will our children."

Will watched his wife's face carefully. He could tell it bothered her anyway. "Listen," he reached for her hand and looked her in the eyes, "if you want to keep your name, I won't be upset. We'll make it work."

She looked at him undecided, "I don't mind being a McAvoy."

"I know that," he smiled at her.

"It's just I've been a McHale for so long, it feels like I'm losing part of my identity."

"You can always use both," he reminded her.

"Mackenzie Morgan McHale-McAvoy?" She rolled her eyes.

"You could use your old last name as your middle name," Will suggested, "I've seen it in bylines by women from our profession when they got married."

"Mackenzie McHale McAvoy?" 

He nodded.

"That's a lot of Macs for one name."

"Think of it as a triple threat," he grinned.

"Mackenzie McHale McAvoy," she repeated with more confidence.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" 

"Yeah," she nodded, "and I never particularly cared for Morgan anyway."

"Please, you got lucky with Morgan. What am I supposed to say? I got saddled with Duncan."

"That's a perfectly good name."

"For a Highlander, yes."

Mac laughed out loud, "I take it you won't be passing on your middle name to our son like your father did with you?"

"I won't be passing _anything_ from my father down to my son if I can help it."

"Will..."

"Seriously, let's use your last name for our kids. So I have to jump over a few administrative hurdles at schools and hospitals, big fucking deal. Like they won't know who I am. And I seriously doubt our kids will be the only ones whose parents don't have the same last name at the playground, so forget everything we discussed about teasing and bullying."

"We don't have to decide right now anyway," Mac reminded him, "we'll cross that bridge if I get pregnant."

"When, Mackenzie, _when_ you become pregnant," Will corrected her.


	15. The Times They Are A-Changing

"What's wrong with this picture?" Pruit barked, nodding toward the fleet of monitors in his wall. The executive producer of _News Night_ and ACN's news director flanked him, watching the coverage of Will's arrest by their competitors flicker across the screens.

Mac frowned, "ABC's chyroning looks a little off, don't you think?" She turned to Charlie, who gave a non-commital shrug.

Pruit stepped forward and whirled around, looking at her speechlessly for a minute, before he took a deep breath and ripped into her. "I'll tell you what's fucking wrong! ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN, even goddamn FOX featured McAvoy's arrest as their top story Friday night. What did we air?" He whirled around again as he pressed a button on his remote.

Mackenzie swallowed and glanced at Charlie, who reached quietly for her hand and squeezed it for reassurance. The monitors came alive again with Sloan's face.

"This is _News Night_ with Will McAvoy on Friday, May 3rd, 2013. I'm obviously not Will McAvoy whose journalistic integrity sets an example for all members of our industry around the world. A few hours ago, the face and voice of _ACN News_  was found in contempt of court, after he invoked his journalistic privilege and refused to disclose the identity of a source. For the better part of last month, _News Night_ has been working on an exclusive story brought to the attention of a young producer by a government whistleblower and fought a legal battle against the government to protect the brave soul who stepped forward. We'd love to let you, our viewers, be the judge but we've been slapped with a corporate gag order that prevents us from airing the story. This isn't Genoa and you will no doubt hear about it from our competitors soon because the truth will always come out. In the meantime, I'll be filling in for Will McAvoy until he is released, which we here at _News Night_ hope to be very soon, so Will can be back right here where he belongs,  _delivering_ the news instead of being it. My name's Sloan Sabbith and our top story tonight is the ongoing civil war in Syria..."

"I didn't know she was gonna..." Mac replied meekly, "She slipped the gag order bit in."

"I don't even care about the personal and highly unprofessional stab at me," Pruit paused the newscast and glared at the newsman. "We're getting scooped on our own fucking story, that's what's wrong!"

Mackenzie interjected, "We're not getting scooped. We made a conscious choice not to exploit Will's personal plight for ratings on _News Night_. Don and Eliot ran a longer segment at 11."

"Well, maybe _you_ should!" Pruit yelled at her. "Because if your numbers continue to sink any lower, we're gonna need a deep sea diver in scuba gear looking for them at the bottom of the ocean!" Mac opened her mouth in protest but Pruit bulldozed right over her, "Why was there no fucking interview with McAvoy? He's _your_ fucking news anchor! Where's the inside scoop? What _the fuck_ were you guys doing in between his sentencing and surrender?"

"Attending a wedding," Charlie cut in, winking conspiratorially at Mac.

"Atta w..." Pruit stuttered and paused dumbfounded, "what the fuck?!?" He glared at Mackenzie, who'd subconsciously started twisting her rings. "Oh no," he started shaking his head, as he put two and two together, "oh no, tell me we're _not_ sitting on that _fucking_ story." 

"It's not a story." By now Pruit was practically foaming at the mouth, like a rabid dog. Mackenzie suppressed her giggles because he really looked a little canine when he was stark raving mad. Suddenly he didn't seem so intimidating anymore, she might just be able to handle him.

"It is when the groom goes to jail after the ceremony and the bride is the executive producer of the groom's newscast!" Pruit looked at her completely bewildered. "What the hell are you still doing here? I want your fuckin' ass on _ACN Morning_ five minutes ago!"

"You can't make me do this! My life is not for your personal entertainment, nor is my wedding news by any standard." Mac hissed. She'd rather quit before she'd let Tony Hart air her dirty laundry.

"I'm president of this network and I'll do as I please. And if I want to turn your fucking life into my own private Coney fucking Island, I'll damn well do so. Am I making myself clear here?!?" His menacing glare bore into her. "I don't care what you think. I want those ratings points. I don't even know why you people work for a cablenews network if you're so obviously not interested in reporting the fuckin' news!" Pruitt threw his hands up in the air frustrated. "Now get your fucking ass down to dayside..."

"Like hell she will," Charlie intercepted Mackenzie before she could throttle the new owner of ACN. He nodded for Mac to leave the room and let him handle the situation. Only reluctantly and at Charlie's insistence, did she finally cave and leave Pruit's office. She let out a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding until the elevator doors closed behind her.

* * *

"What's this?" Jackson frowned and nodded at the easel in his office when he found Mackenzie and Will waiting for him Monday morning.

"I'm glad you asked," Mac beamed as she unveiled the board the minions had been working on, "we're going to change how we do the news."

George glanced at the news anchor who shook his head barely noticeable, indicating their boss would not like it.

"Okay," Jackson drawled and stared at the colorful board, not really understanding. So far it looked like a run-of-the mill standard broadcast format: 

A. Breaking News/National News (Mac & Will/Stacy)  
B. Local News & Politics (Kristen): political analysis  
C. World Events (Paul)  
D. Law & Economics (Will & Ben): legal analysis, economic analysis  
E. Science & Technology (Deb & Frank)  
F. Education/Kicker (Wesley/Mark)

"We look at the news items of each day, research _all_  sides of the issues, then present only the best competing arguments solely based on facts in our show. We invite expert witnesses for all sides to be cross-examined by Will, who'll be tough on them but fair. We won't go to commercial until they answered the fucking question. Then the jury, our audience, can make up their mind. No more pandering, no more hot air."

"No more viewers," Will muttered under his breath.

Mac sent him a death glare before she continued, "Just hard facts and the God honest truth."

"You want what?" George looked at her incredulously.

"I want to improve news coverage in this country," Mackenzie repeated, "I want to do _real_ news, not this soft news and pseudo science shit."

"You saying my show, which you served on as senior producer for almost two years before you were promoted to EP, is shit?"

"Well, no!" Mac realized her mistake and looked to Will for damage control. Jackass was standing with his hands stuffed into his pockets, eyeing her amused and waiting to see how she'd dig herself out of this hole. "I'm saying lifestyle and health stuff should only be reported if it has real scientific merit. Not every study is reportable, it should come from credible and vetted sources. I'm sick of this soft news bullshit to bring in ratings. While we're busy talking about which backpack is best for the new school year, female students are being harassed and sexually assaulted on college campuses all over the country under the clout of varsity and Greek culture. Not to mention the millions of Americans who are still paying off their college loans in their fifties."

"You okay with this?" Jackson looked at the news anchor who shrugged his shoulders.

"Truth is malleable," Will pointed out, "and statistics are up for interpretation."

"Truth", Mackenzie glared at him, "is what this country needs right now. We have the most uninformed and least educated electorate in the history of mankind. I don't know how else to explain why people voted for Bush _twice_. Do you really want another four years of this?!?" She looked at the two men in disbelief. "We need change. Young people aren't tired of politics, they're tired of being patronized. They don't listen because they know it's all lies. And nothing ever happens. Where are those WMDs, huh? We need to start holding people accountable."

"I wonder what's Congress been doing in their hearings for the last couple of years," Will threw in flippantly. 

"You know what I mean," Mac glared at him.

"This is never gonna fly with Atlanta," Jackson shook his head.

"But Walton loved our Friday broadcast."

"I'm sorry, Mackenzie. You can't completely revamp a somewhat successful show without alienating its core audience. They're watching for a reason. If you completely change the format, you're gonna lose viewers."

"Then we'll win them back," Mac countered and the men scoffed amused.

"You can't win back viewers, Mac." Jackson shook his head. "You haven't been EP long enough to know that once they're gone, they're gone forever."

"But we'll gain new ones," Mac insisted. "Better ones. Smart ones. Educated ones."

"You'll be preaching to the choir, Mackenzie," Will interjected.

Jackson reached into his drawer for a board marker and walked over to the easel. "Tell you what. I give you three months to experiment with a new format, if you give me a balanced show."

"To my ears that sounds a lot like no," Mac objected as they watched George cross out words and write over them. He capped the pen and turned around, "Alright, here's my offer: One news item for you, one for me. That means local news goes with breaking news and national coverage into the A block, world, politics and legal make up B, which frees up the C block for soft news and human interest stories." Mackenzie groaned. "Science, technology and economy go into the D block, Education and Lifestyle into E, and Sports and Arts/Entertainment round off your show with the F block."

"Quid pro quo?" Mac looked at her boss in disbelief.

"Exactly, I don't care if you do more Katrina coverage, celebrity interviews or human interest stories, whatever your heart desires, as long as you give me a balanced show I can sell to Walton. Take it or leave it."

Mackenzie opened her mouth in protest but Will interfered, "We'll take it."

"Fine," she harrumphed, "but we won't lead with them."

"Fair enough," Jackson grinned. "You have one month to get your act together, then it's open season on you like the rest of us. Your ratings don't stabilize and you're back to the old format."

"Good," Will started to pack up the easel.

Mackenzie bit her lips.

"Will that be all?" Jackson shuffled through some papers on his desk, already diverting his attention from Mac and Will.

"No," she stepped forward and surprised both men, "there's one more thing. I'd like to change the name of our show."

"Get out of my office," the D.C chief growled good-naturedly.

"Was worth a try," Mac muttered to Will as they retreated to the door.

* * *

Everyone stopped working when she walked in through the doors. The staff sent her sympathetic looks, waiting to see if she made an announcement. What was she gonna say, though? That Will was fine? He was in fucking prison, how could he be fine? Jim rose from his chair and traipsed quietly behind her until they reached her office.

"How'd it go with Pruit?" He finally asked.

Mac just sighed.

"That good, huh?"

"Charlie's still up there, pouring oil on troubled waters."

"You mean bourbon," Jim quipped, which made Mac smile.

"Thank you."

He gave her a sheepish grin.

"I need you to work with Don today," Mac began.

"Okay."

"If Will gets released today, like we all hope, Pruit will insist on an interview with him."

"Sloan can do the broadcast and interview him."

Mackenzie shook her head, "No, he'll never go for that. If he's out in time for _News Night_ , he'll want to anchor it. Besides, I don't want to use him to drive our ratings up. Pruit's furious we didn't interview him Friday before he went to jail. So any deal Charlie will wrangle out of him will include a segment on Will's arrest tonight. So, if there has to be an interview, it's gonna be Don and Eliot."

"Okay, but they don't need _me_ for that."

"No, I know that, but I want you to work together on a cross-network story."

"No," Jim shook his head, immediately guessing her plans. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

Mac shrugged her shoulders, "Our competitors are going to put the puzzle pieces together once AP runs the story. Pruit's right, we can't leave the playing field all to them."

"Yeah, but Pruit's lawyers are the ones who issued the gag order."

"Maybe, but Pruit's also the one who just tried to book me on dayside to weep on Tony Hart's shoulder about my poor husband in prison."

"He didn't," Jim bristled with anger.

"He can't have it both ways. If we have to run the story, we run the whole story or nothing. So, while we're obviously legally not allowed to run the actual Kundu story, _News Night_ will do a segment on journalistic privilege, source protection, legal obstacles, corporate concerns, etc."

"We'll do Part I, how Will got into jail, Don and Eliot will do Part II, how Will got out of jail," Jim nodded with understanding.

"Exactly."

"Pruit's not gonna like it."

"He can kiss my arse."

"I think your new husband might object to that."

Mac smiled again at his joke.

Jim just beamed at her for making her grin twice in less than ten minutes, before he took off in search of Sloan and Don.

* * *

Will observed Mackenzie from the safety of his office. She was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer with her eyebrows furrowed. He wondered what she might be reading that required all of her concentration. Probably the World Summit. Or maybe she was squinting because she should be wearing glasses but was too vain to put them on. For the eleventh time in the last minute since the new intern had dropped the plastic bag with the Chinese food on his desk, Will McAvoy glanced back and forth between his bait and target. Finally, he took a deep breath and ventured out of his office. With renewed purpose, he strode across the bullpen, only to pause sheepishly, when Mackenzie swiveled around in her chair suddenly and fixed him with a curious gaze.

"Yes?"

"There... err.... was a mix-up... err... with my lunch."

"And you want to squeeze a last-minute segment into my already full rundown for a chance to lambaste our take-out industry?"

"Err... no," he shook his head and scratched his neck. "I was wondering... if maybe you want some? Because there's enough Chinese for two?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Mackenzie frowned, "I do feel a little famished."

He extended a non-verbal invitation with an almost imperceptible nod to his office. She followed him and grasped his arm, when she spotted the cartons on his desk, "you've got _Lucky Noodles_? I love that place, their lo mein is _hands-down_ the best in a five block radius around here. It's a real shame they don't deliver."

"I know," Will smiled. "There's also some moo shu pork with fried rice and chop suey with garlic chicken and stir-fried noodles," he explained when she checked the cartons for content. Just as he thought, she snatched up the chop suey instantly, which was fine with him. He had his eyes set on the moo shu anyway.

Mackenzie flopped down in his visitor chair, already opening her carton, and inhaled the smell of her food, "Mmmm."

"Just little famished?" Will picked up a the chopsticks on his way behind his desk and handed her a pair.

"I totally forgot to order lunch," she confessed. "You're my hero. Well, technically whoever screwed up your order at _Lucky Noodles_ is but you're getting mad props for sharing." She broke the sticks and dived into her carton. "Why didn't you just point out their mistake when you picked up your order?" She glanced at him just before she took her first bite, accompanied by another satisfied hum.

Will swallowed hard. If she kept making noises like that during lunch, he'd be in trouble all afternoon. He stuttered, "Because I sent the new kid, what's his name, Ron?"

"Don!" Mackenzie lowered her chopsticks and glared at her anchor, "A summer intern is not a toy, no my boy."

Recognizing the rhythm of her words immediately, Will quipped smugly, "I think you mean secretary," around a mouthful of moo shu.

"You know exactly what I mean," Mackenzie accused him. "Stop abusing my interns."

"What's he still doing here anyway? Summer's over."

"Meteorologically yes, but technically seasons don't change astronomically until the 21st."

"23rd," Will corrected her.

"Whatever."

"It's still next week. We can't afford another paid intern, Mac."

"No, I know. He's a little lost right now because he didn't get into Columbia J-school. I just wanted to give him a few more weeks to work things out."

"What about your successor?"

"Working on it, I promise. I'd really like to give someone from our newsroom a chance to step up but none of them seem ready."

"Ben's got seniority," Will pointed out, "but I'd hate to lose him as a booker."

"I know," Mac whined, "I'd be lost without him."

"What about Christine?"

"Who?"

"Christine, our expert on the Hill."

"Do you mean _Kristen_?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Will grumbled.

"She's good and she'd be my first choice but her head's not in it at the moment."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, something's going on with her outside of work, haven't you noticed?"

Will cast her a look.

"Oh come on, even you must have noticed how her performance has been slipping since we got back from New Orleans."

"I did actually," Will confirmed her feelings, "I just thought she's adapting to the new format."

"Maybe," Mac shrugged her shoulders, "I need to sit all of them down next week and read them the riot act for not doing their homework prior to the broadcasts."

"So you've noticed mistakes sneaking into broadcasts, too?" 

"Please!' She replied indignantly, "Of course, I have. Dangling modifiers everywhere, garden path sentences abound, buried leads, split infinitives, mixed metaphors..."

"I wonder who's responsible for those," Will muttered before he shoveled more food into his mouth.

"What?" She looked up at him.

He made a dismissive gesture, as if to say nothing, and made a show out of chewing his food.

"How's your moo shu pork?"

He swallowed quickly, "Good. You wanna taste?"

She nodded and they traded cartons. Suddenly she frowned and eyed Will strangely. "Funny, they happened to pick all my favorite food when they mixed up your order."

"Yeah," he laughed nervously.

Mac glanced back and forth between the cartons, biting her lips. "You know, you don't have to make up silly excuses to have lunch with me."

"There was a mix-up..." Will started again but then trailed off. Oh, screw it. "I wasn't sure what the proper protocol was after New Orleans."

"You could've just asked," Mac waved her chopsticks at him, "we can share a meal in your office every once in a while without raising suspicion."

"Can we?"

"Sure we can," she picket at her food, "we're friends after all."

"I don't know," Will put his carton down, "are we?"

Her head jerked up and she looked at him stricken, "Of course, we are!"

"You made your position pretty clear when you broke up with me in the bathroom."

"I didn't dump you, Will," she countered, "we were never really together." 

"Yeah, well, still felt like shit."

"That face," she pointed her chopsticks at him, "that's exactly why it had to be done. I hate hurting you, Will. Do you think it's easy for me, being around you with all that sexual tension between us? If it sucks this much  _before_ we actually started dating, how much harder do you think it would be if we broke up after going out for a while?"

"Why do you automatically assume we'd break up eventually?"

"Because..."

He raised his eyebrows at her curiously.

"Because I'm not looking for anything serious right now."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Billy. I can't have you be my rebound guy. Not if we need to keep working together afterwards. I meant every word I said in that bathroom. You're an amazing guy and I'm sure you'll make some woman very happy one day."

"It just can't be you," he finished for her.

She nodded. "No, I'm afraid not. That doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you."

"No, I get that," Will leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "So friends?"

"Friends," Mac smiled back at him.

* * *

Charlie knocked on her door before he poked his head in, "I struck a deal with Pruit. You won't have to go on dayside."

"In exchange for my firstborn?"

Charlie grinned, "No, you'll suck it up and run a segment on Will's arrest tonight. Nothing personal, the wedding's still off the table."

Mac sighed relieved.

"Don't celebrate just yet. _ACN Morning_ gets to break _that_ story in half an hour, so call your mother."

"What?"

"I'll make sure it's Maria Guerrero. But if there's anyone you wouldn't like to find out by watching the news, call them now and let them know you're off the market for good."

"I told my family yesterday," Mac brushed Charlie's fishing expedition aside, "what are they going to run?"

"Just that you and Will tied the knot before he went to jail. Any comment?"

"Fuck you all?"

"Any comment Maria Guerrero can repeat on air to give us a little edge over our competition?"

Mac sighed in frustration. Her gaze fell onto the wedding picture of her and Will she'd just propped up on her desk maybe a minute ago. "Here's my comment," she offered him the photograph.

Charlie crossed the room and took it from her. "I like this one."

"Me too, it's my favorite."

"I don't think I've ever seen you two as happy as in that picture," Charlie mused as he studied the photograph.

"What if he doesn't get out today?" Mac looked at her mentor forlorn.

"Then I'll take my best EP out for dinner after tonight's show," ACN's news director winked.

"I heard that," Don's voice startled them both, as he clasped his fingers around the door frame and swung his upper body in, "speaking of food, you're free for lunch today?"

"Me?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"No, yes, I mean I don't care if you join us, but I meant Mac."

"You wanna talk about the cross-over tonight?" Mac looked at him.

"Yeah, I talked to Jim already but there's still a few details I wanna clear with you first."

"Sure," Mac nodded.

"I can see when I'm in the way," Charlie grinned and retreated. "I'll give this to graphics and bring it back asap."

"Thank you."

"Now, go do the news, you two."

"Did Will put you up to this?"

"What?"

"Making sure I eat three meals a day while he's away."

"Noooo," the men chorused, looking innocently.

Mac just rolled her eyes with a little huff. She was sure Sloan's wake up call was purely coincidental, too, when she asked to meet for breakfast, so they could discuss tonight's broadcast.

* * *

"Something wrong?" Will watched her dig around the empty cartons on his desk.

"I didn't get a fortune cookie," Mac scowled.

"Here," Will picked up his and offered it to her, "have mine."

"I can't take your fortune cookie," she shook her head, "that's like stealing your good luck."

"Are you afraid I'm prone to bad luck?" He teased her and rolled his eyes, when she still refused. "Who gives a shit about what a stupid fortune cookie says anyway?"

"Tell that to the 110 Powerball winners who won the lottery last March playing their fortune cookie numbers."

Will sighed. Of course, she'd care. "Just take the fucking cookie, Mackenzie. I don't mind sharing my luck, good or bad, with you; I'll even let you keep the money if you play my numbers and win."

The way he said her name was her undoing and she grabbed the small cookie, ripping it in two. She read the message quietly and blushed. Now Will got curious and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. 

"What's it say?"

"Nothing," she crumpled the small slip of paper and tossed it into an empty carton, "you were right. Fortune cookies are stupid." Suddenly feeling restless, she rose, "I have to finish the rundown for today."

Will stared confused after her. What the hell had just happened? He reached into the empty container, fished out their fortune saying and unrolled the tiny scrap of paper that supposedly held the key to their future. He raised his eyebrows and glanced toward his EP who was back at her desk, deeply submersed in her research. Carefully, Will wiped the tiny speck of sesame sauce off the paper and folded it neatly before he tucked it into his wallet.

* * *

"What are we gonna do about Syria?" Martin asked and all eyes in the conference room darted to Mackenzie.

"What we always do," she replied confidently, "we gather the facts and then report them."

"Should we, though, in this case?" Gary scratched his neck.

"Guys!" Mackenzie exclaimed, "we're not getting gun-shy because of Genoa! So far we've only got one UN official on a Swiss station mentioning the _alleged_ use of Sarin. If we can get official double confirmation from the UN, no make that triple, that Sarin's used in Syria, we'll report it like every...thing...else..." She trailed off when she realized nobody was paying attention to her anymore. All sets of eyes were trained on the screens in the bullpen where her husband's face flickered across the monitors. One by one, her staff rose and slipped outside to watch _ACN Morning_ 's coverage of Will's arrest.

_"Those are some tough shoes to fill, what do you think, Tony?" Maria Guerrero asked her co-host._

_"Absolutely," he walked the company line, "though I think Sloan Sabbith's done a pretty good job so far."_

_"Oh, most definitely," Maria agreed and winked, "I know my husband seemed to pay more attention to the news than usual last Friday."_

_"I must say Will's earned a lot of respect from me over the past few days," Hart's confession surprised Mackenzie._

_"Going to prison to protect a source, I'm not sure how many of us are really prepared to do that," Guerrero nodded, "especially when we've got a big wedding coming up."_

_"Well, maybe he got cold feet," Tony Hart quipped._

There it was. Mac growled and the whole newsroom protested at the morning host's insinuation.

_"Actually, a little birdie from the 25th floor told me just the opposite, Tony," Maria corrected him. "As ACN Morning has learned exclusively, our very own Mackenzie McHale and Will McAvoy tied the knot at the courthouse Friday afternoon, just minutes before Will surrendered himself to U.S. Marshalls."_

_"That's one way to avoid cameras preserving your arrest for posterity," Hart got in another little dig._

_"So, there it is, ladies," Maria faced the camera directly, "Will McAvoy's a married man."_

_"That's right, folks. You heard it here first. New York City's just lost one of its most eligible bachelors over the weekend."_

_"Aw, look what graphics dug up for us, aren't they adorable." Maria's voice could be heard over an insert of Mac and Will's wedding picture._

_"They're beaming with joy. And this has certainly been a long time in the making, too," Hart added as the insert switched to a promotional still of Mackenzie and Will posing together in the studio at CNN. They already looked thick as thieves. "They met nearly ten years ago at CNN and have been on and off again ever since." A close-up of a younger Mac and Will dancing cheek-to-cheeck in formal wear at some fancy party rolled over the old one._

A rounds of drawn-out sighs went around the bullpen as the _News Night_ staff sent Mackenzie goofy grins and curious looks. She had no idea how dayside got a hold of those old pictures.

"Is that the White House in the background?" Kendra frowned.

"That was at the Kennedy Honors," she explained, "in 2006 I think."

"Will took you to the White House?" Maggie's eyes practically jumped out of their sockets.

Mac nodded and tucked her hair back sheepishly.

_"Looks like this time it's for good," Maria cut in, before Tony could bring up Mackenzie's cheating while they showed a paparazzi pic of Mac and Will walking arm in arm through Central Park this spring. "And they make such a great power couple, don't you think?"_

_"They certainly do," Hart smirked. "From what I hear Mackenzie runs a really tight ship upstairs and is the only one in the business who can keep Will McAvoy on a tight leash."_

That comment made everyone in the newsroom laugh out loud because it was absolutely true. Now that Will and Mac were together, even more than ever. 

_"Well, he's certainly quite the catch," Maria quipped, "I'd keep Will on a real tight leash, too, if I were her."_

_"Will's certainly been around the ladies. Remember Erin Andrews and Nina Howard? Not to mention his sex, drugs & rock 'n' roll phase a couple years ago that ended in the tabloids nearly every night."_

_"Oh, let's not rehash that part. Looks like he finally found the one and settled down."_

_"He sure didn't waste any time once he figured it out and dumped Nina Howard last spring. Did you know Will proposed to Mackenzie backstage during election night last November?"_

_"I did not!" Maria feigned ignorance._ Everyone in the whole goddamn AWM building knew that because of the wild celebration that spilled from the newsroom into the executive dining room thanks to Leona Lansing's big mouth. _"But that's so romantic! Mac's one lucky woman."_

Suddenly Mac's BlackBerry went off, followed by Jim's and Don's. They looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Tony Hart and Maria Guerrero got restless on screen and announced a commercial break followed by breaking news while more phone's started ringing in the bullpen.  

* * *

"And so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good-bye to Robert Wise, director of  _The Sound of Music_  and  _West Side Story_ , who passed away at UCLA's medical center from heart failure yesterday. This was Will McAvoy with _McNews_ on Thursday, September 15th, thanks for watching." Will finished his broadcast. The camera lights went off and the news anchor leaned back in his chair exhausted.

"Good show, everyone," Mackenzie pulled off her head-set before she strolled into the studio, feigning casualness.

"You look tired," she studied Will concerned, "are you getting enough sleep?"

He shrugged his shoulders and yanked out his ear piece with one hand while he turned off his mic pack with his other one.

"I'm sleeping fine."

"Are you getting 7-9 hours of sleep each night?"

"When's the last time you slept more than six hours?" Will countered. "We're news reporters. Lack of sleep is in our blood."

"Yeah, well, you look like you lost five pints of it."

"Did you just come in to compliment my good looks?" He rose from his chair and gathered his things.

"No, I just..." She trailed off. "I think we should open with California tomorrow."

"The same sex bill charade?" He glanced at her as he walked around her to the studio exit.

Mac nodded, "How long are they gonna put off delivering the bill to Schwarzenegger?"

"As long as it takes for lobbyists to change his mind," Will replied and held the door open for her to pass.

"It's been a _week_ ," Mac protested, "a whole fucking week since the California State Assembly recognized same sex marriage."

"Yeah, but it won't be worth anything if the governor vetoes it."

"Mac!" 

They both whirled around to find Don lurking outside the control room.

"Something wrong?"

He shook his head, shifting his feet nervously.

"Go ahead," Mac nodded to Will to continue on to the elevator before she turned to the summer intern, "What can I do for you, Don?"

"I'd..." he began nervously, "I'd like to..." He cleared his throat and straightened up. "I'd like to pitch you a story."

"You'd like to pitch me a story?" Mac repeated amused.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay," she crossed her arms and listened.

"There's a man."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean there's a man in a prison in Georgia." He began again with more confidence.

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"His name is Troy Davis, he's a convicted cop-killer on death row."

"Capital punishment?" Mac pulled a face, "You're pitching me a story about the death penalty?"

The young man nodded.

"Donnie, why don't you try on something a little more your size for you first pitch?"

"No, please, hear me out. I can do this. My college roommate did his internship with the Atlanta Journal-Constitution newspaper, which has been covering the story the whole time. He can set me up with the necessary contacts. Did you know that a judge denied Troy Davis the habeas corpus act last year even though almost all key witnesses for the prosecution have recanted their statements over the last two decades?"

"I didn't know that," Mackenzie admitted.

"The 11th Circuit Court is hearing oral arguments about unfair jury selection, ineffective defense counsel and prosecutorial misconduct this month."

"You know Will used to be a lawyer. If he thought there's a story to chase, we'd already be on it."

"We're going to kill an innocent man, Mackenzie," Don implored her, "it may not look like a real story right now but I promise you this will get big. Besides, isn't this exactly what you're looking for? A human interest story we can pin a larger civic debate on? Something to please Jackson while at the same time engaging our audience in serious public discourse on what is essentially government-sanctioned murder?" 

"What do you want?"

"Don't revoke my CNN credentials until the end of the month so I can travel to Georgia and dig a little around. If there is a story, and I absolutely think there is, you and Will get first dibs to run it."

"You're barely out of diapers, Don. We can't pay for your trip."

"No, I know that. It's a _good_ story and you'll want it. I can make you that promise."

"Alright, Donnie, but if you can't deliver, I have to cut you loose for good. I want daily reports on your progress. You've got two weeks to pitch me a segment."

"Thank you," Don was about to hug and kiss Mac euphorically but just caught himself in the nick of time, "you won't regret this. I promise. Thank you."

"Now get outta here, before I change my mind, and stop wasting your time. You have to pack for a trip south."

"Yes, ma'am!" 

"And stop calling me ma'am!"

* * *

"Alright, so after the interview with the police chief we pivot to Malcolm for an update on the search for Castro..." Mackenzie paused because her cell went off. She exchanged looks with Jim who immediately jumped into action and took over the rundown meeting. In the safety of her office, Mackenzie took a deep breath before she answered Rebecca's call.

"He's not getting out today, is he?"

"No," the lawyer sighed, "Lasenthal's digging in his heels."

"So what does that mean? How much time is Will looking at?"

Rebecca remained quiet.

"A week?"

Silence.

"A month?"

Still no reply.

"Jesus fucking Christ, how long can they reasonably keep him?"

"It's hard to tell but I don't think your husband will be out by Friday."

Mackenzie rubbed her forehead. "Okay, so what are we gonna do?"

"The good news is that Will's coming around on fighting the verdict. So whatever you said to him yesterday seems to have worked."

"I didn't say anything." Not entirely true. "He's made his point so he's ready to move on." 

"Maybe, but so is Lasenthal. For all he cares, Will can rot in there forever. But don't worry, we won't rest until we've exhausted all our legal options."

"And then?" Mac asked meekly.

Rebecca replied with silence.

"Can I see him?"

"Visiting days are Thursdays and weekends in SHU."

Thursday! That was like forever!

"Is there anything you need?"

"My husband, Rebecca, I need my husband home safe with me."

"He's fine, Mackenzie," Rebecca assured her client's wife, "no thanks to you I've heard."

"He told you about that?" Mac winced.

"Didn't have to, word travels fast in prison. You're the talk of the town, Mac the Fist. Seems like you've made yourself quite a name as a little spitfire among the guards over the weekend."

Mackenzie groaned embarrassed.

"Listen," Rebecca began, "people will talk, don't let them get to you."

"No, I know. This isn't my first day on the job."

"Right, I'm just saying, as your friend, don't take everything you hear about Will and your marriage to heart. If somebody crosses a line, call me and we'll see if we can take legal action. Just don't do anything rash, please."

Like crucifying your new boss on live TV for legally but unjustly preventing you from airing the story his star anchor went to prison for, Mac thought. Luckily, the Cleveland kidnapping turned their whole rundown upside down.

"Did you see him or did you only speak to Will on the phone?"

"I talked to him in person," Rebecca assured her client's wife, "he's great for someone who spent the weekend in prison. He tells me he's been reading a lot, so don't worry too much."

Mac sighed.

"I know that's easier said than done, but try, Mac. He's in good spirits, cracking awful jokes. If you need anything, call me."

"I will," she promised.

"Good, I gotta go and file some documents but let's keep in touch. And, please, don't hesitate to call me with any questions you have, ok?"

"Okay, thanks Rebecca."

"Hang in there, Mackenzie." 

* * *

"What's wrong with human interest stories?" Will asked Mackenzie as he held the door to their newsroom open for her.

"I tell you what's wrong with human interest stories," she whirled around and poked her index finger into his chest, "They make ratings go up because we feel sorry for the subjects. I don't want pity, I want the news."

 

"What's going on?" Stacy stopped next to Wesley.

"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders. They observed their bosses fighting quietly from the sideline.

 

"Heaven forbid we feel sorry for our fellow Americans!" Will threw his hands up in the air. "All I'm saying is that facts alone don’t mean anything, we need to put them into historical and political context. We need the human element.” Will countered, hot on Mac's heels. 

"Is that why you closed with Jamal's personal situation?" 

"I put the hurricane into proper context, yes," Will explained. "The guy's saving lives and doesn't even know if his own house is still standing. Not to mention the soldiers from the National Guard who've been deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan and will come back to find their homes and families gone! A grateful nation, and that's how we thank them for their service?"

“We need objective reporting, give people a chance to make up their own mind,” Mackenzie stopped to remind him, "not make it up for them by emotionally manipulating them."

Will almost bumped into her, unprepared for her abrupt halt. “So what you really want is Data from Starship Enterprise," Will replied sarcastically, "I'm sorry I'm a news anchor with a brain and not some heartless android dispensing facts." 

“I’ll take Data and Scarecrow over Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly on any day!” She exclaimed as she left him standing again in the middle of the bullpen.

"Well, then why don't you pitch your ideas to the Sci-Fi channel?" Will yelled after her.

"Well, maybe I will!" Mac whirled around and shot daggers at him.

"Good luck with that," Will scoffed, "but I'm keeping the kids!"

 

"Uh-oh!" Wesley exchanged worried glances with Stacy.

"This isn't good," she agreed.

 

"You don't even know their names!" Mac stomped her foot. 

"Leslie, Christine, and Carl!" Will pointed at Wes and Stacy and Mark, who'd just slipped into the newsroom. Just back from his lunch break, he looked like a deer in the headlights, not a clue what this was all about.

"Not even close!" She scoffed and crossed her arms.

"They were mine first," Will shouted, breezing past her on his way into his office "go and find your own minions to run your new sci-fi newsroom!"

 

"What the hell is going on here?" Mark sidled up to his colleagues, wrestling off his jacket.

"Something about Star Wars," Stacy shrugged her shoulders.

"Star Trek," the men corrected her immediately.

"Whatever," Stacy rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, why are mom and dad fighting?"

"I don't know about you but I'm going with Mac if they separate," Kristen chimed in.

"Jesus, Kris!" Mark jumped a little, "What are you doing sneaking up on us like that? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Didn't want to draw their attention to me unnecessarily, lest I get caught up in their argument," she explained. "Do we know what's going on?"

"Nope," the boys chorused and the four of them watched their anchor and EP fight in the middle of the bullpen amused.

"This is getting a little creepy," Mark observed.

"My parents didn't fight that hard for me when they divorced," Kristen shook her head.

"They were fine when they left for the luncheon with Jackson an hour ago," Wesley recalled.

 

"Well, excuse me, for being more than just a pretty face!" Will shouted.

"I didn't say you have to turn into Tom fucking Grunick," Mac raised her voice now, too, "just be a little bit more like Switzerland."

"I don't like Switzerland," Will huffed irrationally, "I hate Swiss cheese!"

"I don't fucking care," Mackenzie yelled back. 

"And I'm still managing editor and in charge of what goes on air and what doesn't!" Will got into her personal space. 

Instead of backing down, Mac stepped up and got into Will's face. "And if I serve you bloody Swiss cheese, you'll fuckin' eat it! I'm your EP and you'll do as I say."

"Now get out of my office," Will stretched out his hand and pointed his index finger behind her.

"Argh! This is the bullpen," Mac stomped her foot again, "so technically you're in  _my_  office."

"Fine!" Will shouted and turned on his heels, "But I'm still not eating Swiss cheese!" He stalked off into the direction of his office.

"Fine! And I want my own damn office!"

 

Mark and Wesley flinched when Will slammed the door behind him.

"Whoa!" Deb entered the bullpen wide-eyed and strolled over to the others, "Do I wanna know?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Must be the weekend," the science editor mused, "TGIF! We're still having drinks after show, aren't we?"

"Totally, if mom and dad are fighting until showtime, I definitely need a stiff drink after the broadcast."

"They're going to kill each other one day," Kristen surmised, "and we'll be right there, reporting live from the crime scene as it happens."


	16. Take the Long Way Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried to get this up in time for the weekend but Mackenzie and Will just had a mind of their own and hijacked the story at the end of the chapter, so I spent the last few days editing and proof-reading. Happy festivities!

"I did the squelchy with Will," Mackenzie mumbled around her straw.

"I know," Molly swirled hers around her drink.

"No, I mean  _again,_ " the EP glanced up at her friend, "I almost slept with Will again while we were in New Orleans."

"Almost?"

"Well, I woke him up with a blowjob," Mac made a vague gesture with her hand, before she propped her head on it exhausted, "and he reciprocated... in the shower... later... with his hands."

"Is that how you treat all 'annoying, arrogant douchebags' in your life?" Molly quipped, sipping from her cocktail.

"Will's actually a really nice guy when you get to know him."

"All men are when they try to get into your pants," the FBI agent pointed out.

Mac scowled, "Will's different. He's not that kind of guy. He's very sweet."

"So's Brian when he wants something from you," Molly reminded her friend.

"Brian's a sweet-talker who'll say anything to get you into bed. Will talks a big game but ultimately he's just a big ole cuddly teddy-bear. Meanwhile, I thought you liked Will?

"I do but I'm not stupid. He's also your boss."

Mac whined, "I know."

"You just got promoted, why'd you throw your career away for an affair with your boss?"

"I'm not," Mackenzie insisted. "We agreed not to see each other anymore. It was a one-off, a slip-up, an accidental misstep."

"I don't understand, you slipped and fell into his bed and your mouth just happened to land on his cock?"

"Very funny. You weren't there, you don't know what it was like. Things got really intense and we both just needed to let off a little steam."

"He's your _boss_ , Mac. I can't think of absolutely no scenario in the world where that might possibly end well."

Mac winced, "I know, which is why it'll never ever happen again. It didn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh," Molly nodded sarcastically, "is that the reason we're getting drunk tonight?"

"It's happy hour on a Friday," Mac rolled her eyes, "that not reason enough?"

"Seriously, why'd you call? Jason's coming over later so I don't have all night to extract the truth out of you."

"We had a fight," Mac grumbled, "Will and I."

"Of course, you did. I don't understand you, Mac. You're smarter than this. I mean, I could understand you if Will were _the one_ and you'd fight for the love of your life come hell or highwater, but you're not even completely over Brian yet, so why the hell would you risk your career over a meaningless fuck?"

"Because the sex is sooooo good," Mac whimpered.

"Come again?"

"He's amazing, Molly. He really does know what he's doing in bed, or the shower for that matter. We didn't even actually sleep together this time and I can't stop thinking about it. His hands are just everywhere and he makes you feel like you're the only woman in the world. It was just so intense. I'm still having dreams about it, Molly. Dreams!"

"Fuck," Molly shook her head, "God, Mac, you really know how to pick 'em."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're falling for Will."

"I'm not. Falling. For Will!" The EP protested. Molly cast her friend a look. Mac slouched down, "Am I?"

"He's your boss, Mackenzie. Your. Boss. Who do you think gets fired when he decides he's had enough fun with you and moves on?"

"Will's not like that. He's the complete opposite of Brian. He's an old-school gentleman, he'd never disrespect me like that. Besides, it was totally harmless. We were just having a little fun. We're both consenting adults, we're both single, we didn't hurt anyone."

"You're not making any sense. On the one hand, you're saying it didn't mean anything; on the other hand, you're saying Will wouldn't use you like a play thing. Are you sure you two are on the same page here? Maybe he's just getting frustrated with your mixed signals and picked a fight with you to gauge where you stand."

Mac shook her head, "It wasn't like that. He stabbed me in the back at lunch with Jackson."

"See? I told you so, he's already trying to get rid off you!"

"No," the EP shook her head even more vehemently, "that's not the reason he did it, he's just completely averse to change!" 

"Did you change his wardrobe again?" Molly grinned, remembering Mac's exhausted tirade almost two years ago, when Will had sulked all day because Mackenzie had criticized his fashion sense and hired a wardrobe consultant for him - on her second day at work no less.

Mac laughed, "No, it's all his fault this time. He came up with this totally brilliant idea for a new broadcast format where I can put his awesome prosecutorial skills to perfect use. I mean you saw our Katrina special..."

"I _loved_ your Katrina special!"

"Right, so what if I told you Will and I have found a way of delivering something akin to that every evening? Real news, hard facts, objective research and tough reporting."

"That sounds great. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"Not quite because Jackson, who's now chief of our D.C. news bureau, makes us do one soft story for every hard news one we cover."

"You mean like quid pro quo?"

"Exactly!"

"Sounds fair."

"It's bullshit," Mac rolled her eyes, "but Will agreed to it anyway. So earlier today, I tried to get a little more leverage over lunch with Jackson, hoping to get him to drop the human interest stories block, or at least lower his demands to maybe one or two soft news items total per broadcast. So what does Will do?"

Molly shrugged her shoulders.

"He seriously asks me what's so bad about human interest stories."

"That bastard." The words slipped out of the FBI agent's mouth before she could do anything about it.

"Are you mocking me?" The EP frowned.

"No," Molly looked at her friend with a straight face, "how dare he ask such a preposterous question."

Mackenzie scowled, "You're totally mocking me now."

"Oh come on, Mac, he's hardly the devil you make him out to be."

"Are you taking his side?"

"I'm on nobody's side."

"Soft news and human interest stories are the cancer that slowly festers and will eventually kill real journalism."

"Maybe but they also put a human face on remote tragedies and abstract concepts. You know how you always bust my ass for seeing the world in black and white?"

"Yeah," Mac nodded, "The penal system and legal institutions in the U.S. are clearly rigged against people of color and other minorities. Things aren't always as cut and dry as law enforcement would like them to be." 

Molly cocked an eyebrow, "Well, neither are things in your part of the world."

"I get what you're saying but it doesn't change a fact. Human interest stories are manipulative and exploitative."

"But they do serve a purpose."

Mac pulled a face. "They're also a colossal waste of time. They make people sympathize with a situation for a short while but then they forget about it again."

"So why don't you and Will find a way to make them count without exploiting or manipulating anyone? Use human interest stories to drive whatever points you're trying to get across really home with the viewers. Make them so mad, they can't stop themselves from picking up their phones and bombarding their congressmen and women with furious calls."

Mackenzie perked up in her chair, her mind already playing through the opportunities.

"Like I said, I'm not taking anybody's side, but maybe that's what Will was trying to tell you when you didn't want to listen to him."

The EP pulled a face and growled, "If he weren't such a goddamn stubborn ass sometimes!"

Molly scoffed, "Birds of a feather..."

"Are you saying I'm stubborn?"

"Mac, you're like a dog with a bone until you have your way." The FBI agent watched her friend pull out her phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Will."

"Like hell you will," Molly took the BlackBerry away.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mackenzie protested. Losing her phone was akin to losing a limb. It was the digital extension of her body, her lifeline to the world.

"I'm calling an intervention, Mac. You're drunk and there's every chance this turns into a booty call for Will. So, no, you won't get your phone back till you're safely tucked into your own bed."

"God, I hate it when you're right," Mackenzie downed the rest of her drink and signaled the waitress for another one. 

* * *

"He was out."

"He was safe."

"He was sooo out!"

Will rolled his eyes, listening to his baseball buddies still quarreling over tonight's game's outcome an hour later at the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Joe coming back to their table, holding a pint of beer in each hand.

"Are they at it again?" The older man placed one glass in front of the news anchor.

Will nodded, "Thanks. I'm afraid we're gonna have to put them into separate corners for the rest of the night."

"Out."

"Safe!"

"Out, out, out, out, out!"

"Oh knock it off, you clowns!" Joe glared at the two men across the table who shut up immediately.

"You know what we need, Joe?"

The older man shook his head slightly.

"Don't say it, Anthony." Will muttered under his breath.

"Umpires!"

"We don't need no fucking umpires," Will growled before he took a long swig from his beer.

"No, he's right, Will. I bet Sam would ump for us if we asked him." 

"That's a little overkill for our casual pick-up games, don't you think, Adam?"

"I don't know, the man loves him some baseball." Will's old White House friend shrugged his shoulders.

"Sam doesn't even live here. You know something we don't, Adam?" The news anchor raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Nah, just a hunch he might be moving soon. He's on a few people's radar for the second vacancy."

When his phone started ringing, Will reached into his back pocket.

"That the missus calling to enforce your curfew?" Joe grinned.

"Nah, Will's not married," Adam laughed out loud, "he's a confirmed bachelor."

Anthony smirked, "Two words: booty call."

"It's not a booty call," Will rolled his eyes as he checked the caller ID and sent them straight to voicemail.

"What?" Anthony looked at the others, "Women send those, too. Is it a woman?"

"Yes," Will admitted begrudgingly.

"Is it after ten?"

The men around the table nodded.

"Then it's a booty call." Anthony leaned back pleased.

"It's almost hard to believe you're still not married," Joe snorted.

"So who's the lucky lady?" Adam asked.

"Have we seen her on TV?" 

"Is she a model?"

"Do we know her?"

They shouted all over each other.

"Oh my God," Will groaned, "will you stop already? It wasn't a booty call!"

"Okay," Adam grinned, "so we definitely know her."

"Ooo, does she work on the Hill?" Anthony's eyes lit up.

"I can pass on a note for you, if she works in our house." Joe grinned.

"She's not a senator or a congresswoman," Will grumbled, "meanwhile, when did we suddenly time-travel back to middle school?"

"Ha! But there is someone!" Adam elbowed his old friend.

"I'm not seeing anyone," Will replied exasperated.

"Me thinks the man doth protest too much," Joe laughed.

"It wasn't a fucking booty call, ok? It was just my new pain-in-the ass EP," Will tossed his phone on the table casually and picked up his glass.

Just then another teammate returned from the restrooms, "Why's everyone laughing? What did I miss?"

"Will just got a booty call from his EP," Anthony teased the newscaster.

"Huh?" The other man gave Will a WTF-look. "Jackson called you for what?"

"Mackenzie did. And before you get all worked up, Tim, there isn't breaking news. So sit down and have a beer."

"Oh right," Tim relaxed visibly, "Jackson fell up the ladder. So how's Mackenzie working out for you?" 

As if on cue, Mac tried to phone Will once more but he declined the call again. 

"That well, huh?" Tim grinned and eyed his colleague's BlackBerry curiously, "You're not going to answer that? What if there _is_ breaking news?"

"Nope, I've been yelled at enough for one day. And if there were breaking news, your phone would be going off, too."

"Who's Mackenzie?" Joe asked.

"She used to be Jack's second-in-command, maybe you've met her? She would've prepped you for the interview with Will." Tim explained.

Joe nodded, "Oh, I think I remember her. Young brunette with an English accent?"

"Wait a moment," Anthony perked up, "that senior producer hottie with legs like Mount Everest is now running your show for you?"

"Her name's Mackenzie," Will scowled, "and she happens to have a degree in politics and international relations from the University of _Cambridge_ so show a little respect for my executive producer who most definitely did not solicit a booty call from me tonight."

"Oh boy," Adam muttered under his breath.

Just then Will's Blackberry vibrated with an incoming text message from Mac.

"Are you sure about that?" Anthony smirked, "She sure seems to want something from you."

"Yeah, my ass on a silver platter." Anthony opened his mouth but Will cut him off, "Please don't say it. She's definitely not calling for that. Not after the fight we had."

Tim raised his eyebrows, "Something happen during broadcast?"

"Nah, we just had a little disagreement at lunch, which got completely out of hand because she became totally irrational."

"Women!" Adam scoffed.

"Right?" Will nodded, "I don't get them. Out of the blue, she went completely insane on me and compared me to Tom fucking Grunick of all people."

Tim snorted.

"Maybe it's her time of the month," Anthony suggested, "they don't need a reason to be mad at you other than you exist."

"Who?" Joe frowned.

Will explained, "The guy from _Broadcast News_. You know the nincompoop played by William Hurt?"

"Oh, now that was a low blow," Adam nodded.

"Thank you," Will leaned back satisfied.

"Err... Will?" Joe called out and held up the newscaster's BlackBerry. "Says here, 'Hi Will. I know you don't want to talk to me right now because you're not answering my calls. You're obviously still mad at me and won't listen to my voicemails anyway, so I won't bother leaving you any of those. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about earlier. XO Mac.' Call her."

"No!" Will shook his head. "She'll think I sat by my phone all night waiting for her apology, like some insecure teenager."

"He's right, Joe," Adam nodded, "he can't do that. He'd be handing over all the power to her. Trust me, I know."

Joe smirked, "How's _Emily_ , Adam? Still wearing the pants in the family?"

"I'm lucky I got furlough today to go out and play ball with my friends," Adam chuckled.

"At least text her back," Joe insisted and forced the phone back into the news anchor's hand.

"Oh, come on, man," Will groaned, "what am I supposed to write? Thanks, Mac, apology accepted. So you called me a stupid fucking moron, but hey, no sweat. Love, Will?"

"She's reaching out to you, William, so don't be a dick. Ball's in your court now." Joe countered.

"What if I'm not in the mood? Cause I gotta tell you, she was way out of line today."

"Then be a fucking gentleman and take the high road."

"Try this," Tim suggested, "Olive branch accepted."

"Oooo," Will's eyes lit up, "that's good. Step in the right direction but still non-binding."

"Yeah, text her that," Adam nudged his friend's elbow. The men watched the news anchor type out his response and stared at the small device fascinated. A few seconds later, the BlackBerry chimed with another message from Mackenzie who must have been clearly waiting for his reaction:

 **Just want u 2 know that I really do respect**  
**ur experience in the biz. Ur opinion**  
**is important 2 me so why don't u explain**  
**ur standpoint 2 me again over lunch on  
** **Monday?**

The men stuck their heads together to read the message. Just then Mac sent a P.S:

 **I promise I'll hear you out and**  
**won't make you eat Swiss cheese.**

The men looked up confounded at the news anchor who shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"I may have said some things in the heat of the moment."

Joe frowned, "About Swiss cheese?" 

"What the fuck?" Tim said out loud what everyone else was thinking.

"I said I fucking hate Swiss cheese when she said I should be more neutral like Switzerland."

"Yeah," Joe sighed, "still not making any sense to me."

"Doesn't have to," Will moaned, "I just said it."

"Um, Will, I hate to break this to you but the burger you just wolfed down an hour ago had not one but two slices of melted Swiss on top."

"Oh my God," Will groaned, "I didn't mean it, Tim. She just got under my skin and it was the first thing that came to my mind. That's all. I don't give a shit about Swiss cheese. She just does that to me. She makes me say stupid things like that because she's the most relentless, stubborn, headstrong woman I've ever met. A mule's got nothing on her."

"Oh brother," Adam moaned, "you _like_ her."

"Of course I like her. I hardly would've asked her to take over from Jackson when he got promoted if I couldn't stand her."

"Yeah," Adam grinned sympathetically and patted his friend's shoulder, "just keep telling yourself that."

"What's that supposed to mean now?

Tim sighed, "You broke the cardinal rule, didn't you? You did her, didn't you?"

Anthony's eyes lit up with that juicy revelation and he raised his glass to salute him, "McAvoy, you naughty little boy!"

"Alright, that's it," Will emptied his glass and picked up his cell phone, "I'm outta here."

"Yeah," Anthony grinned, "better tap that ass while it's still hot."

"That's it," Will pushed his chair back, "I'm done." He rose and reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash. "You guys are worse than a bunch of old ladies getting their hair done on Main Street." He counted the bills and slapped his share of the bill on the table. "Good-night."

"Oh come on, man," Joe protested, "just ignore him. Stay, Will."

"See ya." Will slipped into his jacket and nodded good-night.

"Don't wait too long or she'll might rescind her booty call!" Anthony yelled after him.

Will closed his eyes embarrassed as he felt all the eyes in the bar turn onto him. A few guys whistled, some cheered him on, others nodded at him encouragingly - Will just opened the heavy oak door and stepped outside.

* * *

Mackenzie looked around the upscale bar lounge, "So this is where you and Will disappear to every night."

"Sometimes. Well," Charlie leaned back in his chair, "used to anyway," he gave her a dazzling smile, "I've had stiff competition for the past few months."

"Oh," she slumped back into her chair, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hog him like that."

"Don't," he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "Mackenzie, I'm so thrilled everything worked out between you and Will."

"You're just relieved you don't have to run interference between us anymore."

"That, too." Charlie admitted readily, "There were times I was torn between sending the two of you for a time-out in separate corners and locking you up together in the janitor's closet."

She laughed out loud softly, "I'm sure the staff would have loved that."

The waiter brought their drinks and asked them if they needed anything else. Mac declined politely but Charlie ordered club sandwiches for both of them. Once the waiter was gone, Mackenzie looked at her news director unimpressed.

"You have to eat."

"I don't feel particularly famished. Between you, Don and Sloan I feel like a goose fattened for Christmas."

"You have to eat regularly," Charlie insisted, "you'll be no good to me if you burn yourself out. I can't afford to be out my flagship news anchor _and_ executive producer."

"So this is purely business," Mac smiled.

"Absolutely," Charlie knocked back half of his bourbon. When he put his glass back down on the table, he leaned forward eagerly and let his folded hands fall between his legs. "So, how do you like married life, Mrs McAvoy?"

"You mean all ten minutes of it?"

Charlie gave her a sympathetic smile, "You'll have him back soon."

Mackenzie felt the tears well up in her eyes. She tried to blink them away and fight them. She croaked, "I'm sorry," and carefully wiped the corners of her eyes, mindful of her mascara, "I don't know what's coming over me."

"Hey, hey, hey," Charlie cut her off and came around the table to squeeze into the oversized sofa chair next to her, "no need to apologize, kiddo. How long have you been holding that in?" He pulled out an old-school handkerchief and offered it to her. Mackenzie took it gratefully but paused and looked at it wistfully when she felt reminded of all the times Will had stolen a little part of her heart with this simple gesture.

"Thank you." She dabbed her eyes, "Since Rebecca called this afternoon." She looked at her mentor, "It's not looking good for him, Charlie."

"I know," the news director sighed, "she called me, too, to give me an update."

"M.A. Farber spent 40 days in prison, Judith Miller 85, and Vanessa Legget one fucking hundred and sixty-five days!"

"Yes, but Bernard Falk got out after only four days," Charlie countered, "I know how to use google, too. Jim Taricani received six months of home confinement and Pennsylvania's Supreme Court overruled Robert E. L. Taylor and Earl Selby's sentence, so there's hope for Will. You mustn't focus on the negative examples. You'll just end up driving yourself insane."

"In the meantime, Will and I risk growing more and more estranged with each day he spends in prison. That's no way to begin a marriage."

"Do you think you rushed into it?"

"No," she shook her head vehemently, "I'm just saying marriage is hard enough without being apart."

"Gets a lot harder when you're together all the time, trust me," Charlie quipped.

Mac grinned, "Feeling a little henpecked there, Charlie?"

"I love my girls to death, Mackenzie," he chuckled, "but half the time I've got no fucking clue what all their drama is about."

She laughed, "So what, you took in Will like the son you never had to even the scales at home?"

"Something like that," Charlie chuckled, "Nancy teased me once it would've been easier for us to just take in a stray dog."

Mac laughed. "What did you say?"

"At least he's housebroken."

That made Mackenzie laugh even harder. Snot threatened to come out of her nose, so she blew it quickly. Into Charlie's neatly ironed cotton handkerchief, she realized belatedly and cringed. The waiter returned with their sandwiches and Mackenzie used the opportunity to make the dirty cloth disappear and vowed to buy her boss a new one. 

* * *

Once he stepped outside, Will breathed in the fresh air. He still had his phone in his hand and reread Mackenzie's latest message to him. He sighed. Joe was right. He shouldn't be a dick about it. So on a whim, he decided to reply to her.

 **I don't know why I said that  
I don't really** hate **Swiss cheese.**  

 **I know i sat next to u**  
**at the bar n grilll, remember?**

Will smiled. Her spelling skills had deteriorated considerably over the past ten minutes. Chances were she had done the same he had. Gone out with Molly and got drunk after their fight. Did that mean, though, that she regretted their altercation in the newsroom? He pocketed the phone and zipped up his jacket before he started walking down the street. He'd barely made it half a block, when his phone rang again. He didn't even have to check caller ID to know it was her. Against his better judgment, Will answered the call.

"So," she began without preamble, "sheeshburgersh for lunsh on Monday? My treat."

Oh yeah, he grinned, the slight slur in her speech betrayed her tipsiness.

"Go to bed, Mackenzie," he sighed, "we're fine."

"I _am_ in bed," she countered and Will slammed his eyes shut over this revelation. She just had to go there and put that image into his head. Like he didn't have enough problems already. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Heading home," he said as he turned the corner onto 7th Street.

"Oh," Mac replied meekly, "you went out." She couldn't understand her own reaction. She was the one who told him to move on, so why did she suddenly feel a pang of jealousy that he was able to replace her so soon despite all his protestations to the contrary.

"Yeah," he replied lamely.

"Oh well, I'm sorry again," Mac sighed, "I didn't mean to interrupt your date." 

A little smile tugged around the corners of his lips. She was on a fishing expedition. If he'd been out on a date with another woman, he wouldn't have bothered to take her call. And she very well knew that. Still she asked the question, so what did that mean?

"You weren't," Will reassured her quickly, "I mean I was just hanging out with the guys." 

"Oh." A long stretch of silence passed between them, before she spoke again. A car honked next to Will, warning him not to step off the curb yet. "What's that noish, I can barely hear you. Where are you?"

"Just passing Shaw station on 7th, sorry about the traffic."

"That's only one shtop from me." He could hear the playful smile in her voice and froze mid-step right in front of the escalators that led down to the mezzanine. Why did she say that? Like he didn't know. She had a nice apartment near U Street Station, whereas he lived just shy of Logan Circle one stop in the opposite direction. Fucking Anthony was starting to get to his head. Sure, she was tipsy and flirty with him but that didn't mean that she actually wanted him to take the next northbound train to her place. Or did she?

"I know," he replied lamely, "we live in the same neighborhood. Listen, I'm heading down to the platform, so I might lose connection. Just letting you know, so you don't think I hung up on you."

"Okay."

Another pregnant pause followed that raised the tension between them noticeably, even over the phone line. Mackenzie's pulse quickened as she agonized what this last bit of information meant. Had he planned to take the subway home all along or had he changed plans because of what she'd just said? Oh God, why'd she even say it? What was she going to do if he showed up at her door because he'd just decided to hop on the next northbound train and see her?

Two roads diverged on an island platform... Will thought as he rode down the escalators and to the island platform. Left or right? Home or Mackenzie? Northbound of Soutbound? While Will mulled over his decision, the announcement display came into view. He squinted his eyes to read better from the distance but there was no mistaking it. Trains were not stopping at this station for the remainder of the night. Hm, Will almost laughed out loud.

Saved by the WMATA.

He turned around at the bottom of the escalators... and took the road less travelled.

* * *

"So," Charlie clapped his hands together, "when are you kids going to make me a grandfather?"

Mackenzie almost spit out her scotch because the newsman's non-sequitur had caught her completely off-guard.

"Are you okay?" Charlie looked at her concerned when she coughed. He patted her back softly.

Mac blushed at the older man's bluntness and spluttered, "You already have two grandsons!"

"Doesn't mean there isn't room for one more," her mentor gave her an impish grin.

"Why does everyone automatically assume a couple wants to start reproducing the minute they've tied the knot?"

"Because it would be a damn shame if you and Will didn't spice up the gene pool in this city."

Mac closed her eyes and shook her head amused.

"What? You'd be a wonderful mother and Will would make a great father."

"Wouldn't hurt if you reminded him of that next time you see him. He's always looked up to you, maybe he'll listen to you."

"He's scared he'll turn into his own father," Charlie nodded, "because he's inherited his depression. His old man was a sick bastard who self-medicated with alcohol."

"I know," Mac sighed, "and part of Will is still convinced he'll turn into the same raging monster the minute our son is born."

Charlie raised his eyebrows curiously and she realized her mistake. 

"No," she shook her head quickly, before he got his hopes up, "I didn't mean. We're not... I mean we obviously talked about it when we got engaged but I'm not pregnant. We're not expecting."

It did nothing to diminish the beaming smile on the older man's face, "But you're working on it?"

"Yes," Mac ducked her head and smiled shyly, "we're trying."

"Splendid, then you won't be needing this," Charlie reached across the table for Mackenzie's glass and finished her scotch with one big gulp.

Mackenzie rolled her eyes, "You'll have to cut me some slack while Will's in prison. His little swimmers might be in good shape for his age but they're not so good that he'll knock me up me from afar."

"Fatherhood will do him good," Charlie ignored her protests and continued unperturbed as he moved back to his chair, "until Will holds that little bundle of joy in his arms and feels that overwhelming rush of emotions, he won't truly understand that he'll never be like his father. Having that experience of looking into your child's eyes for the first time and letting that endless love and joy wash over you along with the unbridled fear and protective instincts in a matter of seconds will give him the closure he's been seeking all his life."

Or hurl him deeper into the abyss, Mac worried. She could practically see the wheels turning in her husband's head as he tried to figure out why he couldn't be the same to his father. "I really hope so because his self-doubts keep eating away at him and they're slowly wearing me down, too."

"I _know_ so," Charlie replied optimistic, "I told him before and I'll keep telling him for as long as he needs me to say it: Fatherhood really does live up to the hype."

"You've talked with Will about this?" How much did Charlie know about their problems conceiving? She wasn't surprised her husband had confided in the only man who'd ever resembled a father figure in his life, looking for advice. She just wished he would've told her so she didn't feel so ambushed now.

The news veteran nodded, "Right here, in fact. He was sitting in your chair a few years ago, going on about dropping pianos on his children."

"Oh," Mac chuckled, "I'm familiar with that theory. I keep telling him we need to buy that damn piano first before he can start dropping it on the kids." Her laughter froze when she realized something. She cocked her head and studied ACN's news director carefully in the chair opposite hers. "You orchestrated the whole thing, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Everything! Northwestern, Don and Eliot, Lucky Strikes - you moved us around like pawns on a chess board."

"First of all, Will signed up for the talk at Northwestern himself, I had nothing to do with that. Had I known he'd become so unhinged by an inane question from sorrority girl..."

"Her name is Jenna," Mackenzie cut in.

Charlie brushed her interjection aside with a wave of his hand and finished, "I would've never let him go." 

"You planted me in the audience!" Mac hissed. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd sit in the front row and jump up to read him the riot act when he told the students that weather rates."

"Huh?" 

"Never mind."

"Why didn't you tell him I'd be there? The poor guy thought he had hallucinations when he saw me in the audience."

"That damn vertigo medicine."

"I'm serious, Charlie! For a year, he thought he was slowly going crazy because he thought he saw me in the audience."

"What are you talking about?"

"He never told you?"

"Told me what?"

"I knew Will was gonna eschew Jenna's question, so when the moderator needled Will for a real answer, I wrote a cue card to help him out."

"And held it up like back in the days," Charlie grinned.

"Yeah," Mac's nose wrinkled with her smile.

"How'd you know she'd ask...." Charlie's jaw dropped, "oh my God, did you plant sorority girl to mess with Will?"

"No!" She shook her head, "I may be brilliant but I'm not that evil. I ran into her while I waited for the doors to open. That's when she shared her question."

"What did it say?"

"Why's America..."

"No," he cut her off, "I meant your card."

"Oh, I actually ran out of space on my pad, so it was technically two cards," she explained as she reached for her bag and pulled out her organizer. Charlie leaned forward and watched her curiously flip back the pages. "So, you remember the question?"

"Of course, Will's made sure I won't be able to forget for a while."

"Why is America the greatest country in the world?" She repeated it anyway as she slid her notepad across the table.

"It's not," Charlie read out loud and she flipped the page for him, "but it can be." He looked up sharply, "You gave this to Will as a prompt?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"And that's when he went off the rails?"

She nodded again.

Charlie whistled softly as he fell back into his chair. "Damn, you really know how to play our boy like a fiddle."

"It was never about News Night, was it?" Mac fixated her boss, "All you had to do was give directions from above and everyone would've followed your lead. Don could've done the show you wanted. I trained him. You didn't come to D.C. just to recruit me for a job."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, "Can't blame a man for trying if he sees an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Will's like a son to me. I couldn't watch him spiraling out of control much longer. He needs you, period."

"You sly, old matchmaker," Mackenzie shook her head. "You're a romantic fool, you know that?"

He looked up at her, "You've kept this the whole time?"

She blushed.

Charlie grinned, "Now who's the romantic sap?" 

* * *

"So how close are we on the Roberts vote in your opinion?" Mackenzie asked Will, as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The whole walk home, they kept talking about the show. They explained each other's position and found some common ground in their decision to use human interest stories in order to increase the impact of a tragedy or social injustice they were reporting but steer away from soft news items for the sake of human stories. As they discussed their plans, Mackenzie sobered up considerably and Will had to harvest all his willpower to keep from letting his thoughts wander into the gutter, as she occasionally erupted into giggles.

"Barring any unforeseeable surprises during the remaining hearings, I think we'll have a recommendation by the end of next week, which reminds me" he flopped down on his couch, "I received a tip from an old friend today. Have Cindy put together a packet on Samuel Alito, he might be tapped to fill the second vacancy."

"Okay," Mac agreed, "I will tell _Kristen_."

Will groaned.

"I really wish you'd learn their names," Mac huffed and teased him, "if only so you can tell the judge which kids you want to keep when we legally separate."

That made him laugh out loud.

"Will?" Her tone changed and he felt his pants constrict immediately.

"Yes?"

"If the Green Line had been running tonight..."

"Mac," he sighed as he put his feet up on the coffee table, "that's a very dangerous..."

"Which train would you've taken?"

"I don't know," he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch, "probably jumped on the first one that pulled into the station and prayed I made the right decision."

She remained quiet on the other end. He popped the button on his jeans to give his rising cock a little room to breathe.

"Mac?"

"Hm?"

"If I'd knocked on your door tonight, would you've opened?"

More silence on her end of the line.

"Mac?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, "I'm afraid I would've let you in."

Will groaned. 

"Thank God for Metro's unreliable service," she giggled.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. 

"What would you have done," she began again, "if I had let you in?"

He didn't have to think about it for even a second, "Kiss you." 

"Yeah?" Her tone turned flirty again and Will's erection grew.

"Mhm." He quietly lowered the zipper, lest she heard him over the phone and thought of him as a pervert.

"What kind of kiss?" She wanted to know and this time Will did think for a moment. Would he have backed her into a wall and covered her face with hungry, passionate kisses? Or would he have taken time to savor the moment when his mouth touched her soft, pale pink lips again?

"A long, slow, gentle one."

"I would've liked that."

"Yeah?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "What if I had turned up the heat and backed you into a wall? Would that have turned you on?"

"God, yes!" She moaned and Will heard rustling on the other end of the line. If she was doing what he thought she was doing, they might have just crossed an invisible line.

He asked stupidly, "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She teased him.

Will swallowed hard and looked down at the bulge in his jeans. With the open fly and popped button, his cock looked like it was in the middle of staging a prison break. He reached inside to rearrange his package and closed his eyes. "What are you wearing?"

"White cotton panties and a purple camisole top."

Will groaned as his erection throbbed in his hand.

"What are you wearing?"

"Jeans and a T-shirt."

"Sounds to me like you're a little overdressed for the occasion."

"And what occasion would that be?" He teased her.

"Whatever you'd like it to be," she put the ball into his court. Fuck. Now he had to make the decision.

"I thought we couldn't have a sexual relationship while you worked for me?" 

"Two friends helping out each other in times of need hardly constitutes a relationship."

"I see," he concluded, "I make a really good friend."

She suggested, "Why don't you take off your clothes and make yourself a little more comfortable?"

"Okay, hang on a sec, let me put you on speaker," he put his BlackBerry on the coffee table. Then he pulled off his shirt and rose his hips to push down his jeans until he sat on his couch in only his boxers. 

"Are you naked now?"

"Nope, still in my boxers."

"Aren't you going to... Free Willy?"

He groaned. "That was an awful pun, Mac!" He chastised her as he reached into the slit of his boxers.

"Are you touching yourself?" She asked when he got quiet again.

Will's hand froze. "No." Technically he wasn't touching _yet_.

"Liar," she called him out on it immediately.

"I wasn't," he insisted.

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Your instructions," he called her bluff.

"Oh." She paused and he thought he'd won this round, when she surprised him again. “My hand's gliding over your soft boxer shorts, tracing the outline of your erection, until I find the tip of your cock. I can feel you swell even more underneath my gentle touch and a wet spot appears at my fingertips. I lean in and ask you if you want to come inside your shorts.”

“No,” Will shook his head and lifted his waistband to peek at his hard cock, already leaking all over his boxers.

“Then lift your hips so I can free your cock,” Will slid down his shorts and let his cock spring free.

“Is it leaking yet?” She asked teasingly.

“You know it is,” he huffed, “like a faucet.”

“Good, now pretend it’s my finger that rubs across your crown, spreading your essence all over your shaft.”

Will’s groan sent a tingle straight to Mackenzie’s pussy.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” she invited him to become more active in their phone sex.

“Fuck, Mac,” he grunted, “I really don’t care, as long as you don’t stop till I come.”

“Would you prefer a blowjob or a handjob?” 

“Blowjob,” he blurted out and she laughed.

“Okay, but I gotta warn you, I don’t swallow.” She teased him.

“How will we ever work around that,” he rolled his eyes.

“Close your eyes and make a fist around your cock. That's my warm mouth slowly engulfing you. Do you like that?”

“God, yes,” he sighed, “I’m particularly amazed with your ability to talk with your mouth full of dick.”

“Focus, Billy!”

“I am!” He reassures her, “I’m so turned on by your voice alone, I’m a few strokes shy of ending this little tryst prematurely.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” she told him, “you know I love hearing you come.”

He murmured, "I wish I could see you. Are you naked?"

"No, hang on," he heard rustling on the other end and assumed she was ditching the rest of her clothes. He was surprised when his phone pinged with a multimedia message. He opened the file and saw a picture of her in her purple camisole pushed up so far he could almost see her nipples peeking out and one of her hands shoved down her panties, giving a dazzling smile into the camera phone.

Will groaned deeply and slid his fist up and down his cock faster.

"Like what you see?"

"Definitely, I want you to grab your tits and squeeze them."

She moaned heavily.

"You like that?"

"Yes."

"Good, now pinch your nipples for me. Are they sticking out?"

"Yeah like tiny purple mountain peaks."

He roared. "I want to suck them."

"Do it." She rolled her nipples between her thumb and fingers and cried out softly.

"You like that? Me sucking your tits?"

"God, yes, I want you to suck harder."

"Lift your camisole and suck your fingers."

"What?"

"Just do it," he heard her lick her fingers obscenely for him.

"Now play with your nipples, make them wet and hard."

Her breathing became laboured.

"I love your tits, Mackenzie. I wish I was there to cup them in my hands, feel their soft weight resting against my palms, while I kiss your neck from behind."

"Is that all you would do?" She prompted him with her fingers poised at her breasts. 

"No, I would run my thumbs over your stiff nipples," she followed his instructions, "then I would tweak them and tug at them until you couldn't hold back your moans."

"Ohhh," she crooned into his ear, "yeah, that's it, Billy, make me come."

"Slide your hand down into your panties, Mac, and play with yourself."

"Ahhh," she breathed heavily into his ear. "God, I want you, Will," she moaned, "I need you inside me."

"I want you, too, Mackenzie. I so wish I was there to fuck you right now. I can hear how wet you are. God, I just want to dive in your muff and lick your pussy till you come on my tongue." His hand was just a blur on his dick, as he worked towards his climax. "I bet you taste really sweet down there, Mackenzie," he groaned as his balls tightened in his sack. He could sense her change of mood and realized he'd gone a step too far for her. Before the moment was ruined, he instructed her quickly to stick a finger in her pussy. She did as told and cried out softly.

He wanted to make sure she came before him. The picture she'd sent him had really put him on the edge. "That's it, baby, you feel so good around me. I love how tight you are."

"I love how big you are."

"Then put in another finger and feel my big, fat cock stretching your pussy."

"Ohhh," she sighed.

"That's it, baby, now go nice and slowly. Put me on speaker, so you can rub your clit with your other hand."

"Oh my God, oh Will!"

"I'm so close, honey," he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. 

"Fuck me, Will," she pleaded with him and sped up her fingers.

"Oh God, yes, Mackenzie! Almost there, honey, almost there. Oh my God, I'm gonna come." 

"I wish I could see you blow your big load. Fuck, Billy, you're so sexy when you come."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, Mackenzie, I'm coming. Oh fuck, I'm coming, oh, oh, OHHHH!" He let out a guttural groan and she knew he'd found his release. She heard his quiet moans and gasps as he emptied his balls. She found listening to Will's climax very arousing and continued to rub her clit.

"Oh my God," he groaned embarrassed when he opened his eyes again after reveling for a long minute in orgasmic bliss. He eyed the white trails on his stomach that led up to his shoulder and didn't bode well for the wall behind him. "Oh crap."

"What?"

"Nothing," he replied evasively.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just a fucking mess."

She groaned, "I wish I was there. I bet you came all over yourself, didn't you?"

He realized she was still chasing her peak and this talk turned her on. "Yeah, it's everywhere. My chest, my couch, even the fuckin' wall!"

"Seriously?" She giggled, "You came so hard you hit the walls?"

He gave an embarrassed laugh, "Yeah, what can I say? You turn me on, babe. Just listening to your heavy breaths makes me so hard. And when you sent me that pic... my cock just erupted all over the place."

"Like a volcano spitting fire," she giggled again.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "close your eyes for me, honey."

"Okay," she replied quickly and without protest.

"Can you feel my fingers tracing the curves of your breasts?"

"Yes," she moaned as her own hands mimicked his fictional movements.

"I love how soft they are. I can't resist kissing them. Your nipples are calling out to me. I just have to run my tongue over them and close my lips around them."

"Oh, yes, Billy, suck my tits."

"My hands move down your stomach. I can feel your taught muscles quiver underneath my touch and I know you're so, so close but I won't let you come just yet."

"Don't stop, Will." Her heavy breaths were music to his ears.

"I promise I won't," he hummed, "I trace the outline of your navel with my tongue. I love your cute belly button and can't resist dipping my tongue into it."

"Please, hurry, Will, I need you."

"Where do you need me?" His voice dropped and octave and her stomach did a little somersault

"Inside, Billy," she replied huskily, "I need you inside me."

"Okay, can you feel my fingers running over your hips down to your thighs?"

She cried out, "Yes!"

"I kiss your inner thighs as my fingers draws circles on it. With every circle they come closer and closer to your lips."

"Touch me, Billy, please."

"Okay," his voice was so low it sent shivers down her spine, "you may touch yourself now, Mackenzie."

He heard a long drawn-out moan on the other side of the line.

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes, oh my God, Billy!"

"You feel so good around me, Mackenzie. So tight and wet."

"I'm so wet for you, I need a fucking boat!" She groaned. Will's cock twitched on his thigh in response to this revelation.

"How many fingers do I have inside you?"

"Just one," her breath became shallow.

He asked her, "Do you want me to add another one?"

She nodded, "Yeah," and used her fore and middle fingers now to pleasure herself.

"That's it, baby, nice and slow."

"Oh my God, oh yes, Billy, so close, honey, I wanna come so bad."

"What do you need, Mackenzie? Tell me, baby - faster? Deeper? Harder"

"I wanna see you, honey, let me see you."

"What?"

"Send me a picture of you, babe."

"I can't," he felt torn inside, "I'm a fucking mess, remember?" He already searched for his discarded boxers to wipe off his belly.

"I know, I wanna see your come covered body."

His hand froze.

"Why?"

"It's not as good as watching you blow your load but it's still sexy."

“I’m not going to send you a picture of my come-splattered body.”

“Please," she whined, teetering on the edge, “I promise I’ll delete it right after I come. No one will ever see it.”

“What if you accidentally hit the wrong button and send it to someone else instead of deleting it?”

“I know I’m not the most technologically advanced person on your staff," she snorted, "but even I’m not _that_ stupid. Come on, baby, let me see your epic mess."

Will sighed as he stretched out his arm as far he could extend it to get a better angle of himself.

“Please, Will, help a girl out.” 

“Alright, alright,” he groaned, “give me a sec, it’s kinda hard to frame a shot you can’t see. That's a real market niche, front facing cameras for perverts to take pictures of themselves while they have phone sex with girls.” Moving the phone around for different angles, he snapped a few pictures and sent the best one to Mackenzie.

He knew when she received it because he heard her long and drawn-out, “Fuck, Billy, you really came a lot!” Mackenzie felt a strange rush of power and arousal as she looked at the picture of Will. She did this to him! Her walls started to rhythmically contract around her fingers. A long stretch of silence followed as the squelching sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her pussy were the only sounds that filled the dead air on the phone. The tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter. And then the spark ignited and white, hot desire spread out from her core, consuming quickly her entire body. Her hips arched off her bed as she cried out with pleasure. Her ears buzzed from the intense orgasmic bliss but she could swear she thought she heard Will encourage her to let go and come for him somewhere in the back. Will. Sweet, gentle Will. Her perfect but unattainable lover. 

He waited for her breathing to normalize. "That pic really did turn you on, didn't it?"

She felt weightless and sated, "Yeah." 

"I should clean up," Will wiped off his stomach, "and probably repaint my wall."

"I don't know," she giggled, as she took another look at the photo he'd sent her, "we could frame it and tell your visitors it's a modern piece of art by an up and coming Brooklyn artist."

Will laughed out loud, "Yeah, I don't think anyone would be fooled. The blots look pretty suspicious." He turned silent for a moment. "Mac, I..."

"I know, Will, let's not dwell on what just happened, ok?"

"Sure... yeah... I suppose... sweet dreams, M'kenzie."

"Go take care of your walls, Michelangelo." 


	17. The Impossible Dream

Side by side, Will and Mackenzie strolled down First Street on their way back to the newsroom from Shake Shack's at Union Station.

"What do you think about this one," he elbowed Mac softly, "You heard it here first."

"I'm sorry," she glanced at him sideways, "did I miss the memo about our slot moving to mornings?"

"You hate it," Will nodded, "you're right. It's awful." He fell silent, as he pondered other options. 

Mac rolled her eyes, "Why are you so obsessed with finding a signature sign-off?"

"Because all the great news anchors got one. Murrow wished us good night and good luck. Cronkite told us that that's the way it is. And Dan Rather let us know what was part of our world every night until recently."

"Will, I hate to rain on your parade but you're on at 5pm. You're not exactly a household name."

"Yet, Mackenzie, yet. I know you're more worried about content and format, which is good because that's what you're supposed to do since you're the executive producer," he reassured her quickly, "but I'm the anchor and I need to start thinking about building my brand. With the overhaul of our show now's as good a time as any."

"Northeastern prick in Armani."

"Excuse me?!?" Will stopped dead in his tracks.

Mackenzie scanned the heavy traffic on H street, avoiding his eyes. "That's your brand."

His mouth opened and closed in silent disbelief and protest combined.

She turned a little to give him a half-amused and half-apologetic look, "I'm sorry it's just who you are."

"I'm from Nebraska!" He threw his hands up in the air. His voice skipped higher and higher, as he continued, "I grew up on a fuckin' farm. I'm the all-American boy from next door!" 

"But I don't want Paul fuckin' Bunyan reading the news to me in a flannel shirt every night. I want a smart, meticulous, sophisticated, trustworthy square shooter who can give me the facts straight, challenge the status quo, question policies and interview heads of states. I don't want you to cuddle politicians and policymakers, I want you to go head to head with them." She swung her fist to emphasise her words. "Let them know you see through their lies and call them out on their bullshit immediately!"

Mac gave Will the smile that nearly always did his knees in, "We can use your Midwestern charm to get away with a lot more than other anchors do. If we succeed in blending your all-American roots with your superior intellect and talents as a prosecutor..." her voice almost cracked from excitement, "Billy, we'll have lightning in a bottle."

"You really think that?" He saw an opening in traffic and nodded for them to cross the street.

"Definitely, trust me on this. You went to Columbia Law School for crying out loud! You know you're better than the shit we've been doing. If we're gonna do serious, primetime quality journalism on our little evening show, we're gonna build a brand for you that's fit for a flagship anchor. Everyone should know that the name Will McAvoy means serious business. Let them try to fob you off with half-assed arguments and little white lies and see how fast you'll open a tomato can..."

"Whoop-ass," Will interjected.

"What?"

"You open a can of whoop-ass on somebody," he corrected her, "a tomato can is someone who sucks at their job."

"And there he is; the smug Northeastern prick we'll all come to love," Mac grinned smugly.

"Now who's the smug one?" He protested, "You set a trap for me!"

She smiled, "And you walked right into it."

God, how he loved those dimples when she beamed at him like that.

"You're going to change my wardrobe again, aren't you?" Will commented dryly.

Mackenzie smiled, "I _promise_ I won't touch your clothes."

He quipped, "If only you ever actually _touched_ my clothes."

"Will," Mac stopped walking this time, "Friday night was a mistake."

"We seem to be making a lot of those lately," he turned around and looked back at her. 

"I know," Mackenzie sighed, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you. I was drunk and I... It doesn't justify what I did. I keep hurting you when it's actually the last thing I want to do."

Will avoided her gaze and reached into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes. Mac watched him quietly as he slammed the pack with practiced ease so one slipped out. He popped it into his mouth and flicked the lighter with his thumb. As he lit up, he glanced up and saw the miserable look on her face.

"It's okay, Mac. I _know_ that. I just wish..." he trailed off as he inhaled deeply.

"What?" She bit her lip nervously. "You wish what?"

He shrugged his shoulders, as he exhaled slowly, "Doesn't matter what I want, does it? You've made up your mind."

"That's not fair, Will. You said you understood why..."

"I do," he cut her off, "I really do and I respect all of your concerns but there just comes a point in life where you have to ask yourself what you want."

"I hear you," she tried to let him know that she struggled with this situation as much as he did.

Will narrowed his eyes, "Do you?" He flicked his cigarette and watched the ash fall to the pavement. "Because I can tell you right now it feels like everything I've ever wanted lies right there in front of me, mine for the taking, but every time I reach out, it's just beyond my grasp."

She looked at him crushed. "You're saying I'm holding you back from your dreams?"

He shook his head with a mirthless smile, "I'm saying you put them at my fingertips."

Mackenzie swallowed hard. "I," she opened her mouth to say something in return but then she chickened out, "I really should head up to the office..." 

"I'll be right behind you," he glanced at the cigarette in his hands, "I'll just finish..."

"Yeah," she nodded much too eagerly, "I'll see you upstairs."

Will watched her quietly walk into the building while he took a long drag. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple walking towards him. They were so engrossed in their conversation, they paid no attention to him, which gave the anchor a chance to observe their body language. Will had learned a lot about that in the courtroom. The guy leaned into her personal space to tell her something, betraying a familiarity between them that suggested bedroom intimacy. He must have shared a joke with her because she laughed out loud. A little too hard for Will's taste to not consider it faked. She patted his arm and batted her eyelashes at him. Will would have pitied the poor sucker, if he hadn't been absolutely sure that the guy was working an angle, too. With dismay, the anchor watched the couple make a sharp turn and slip through the slide doors Mackenzie had just disappeared into a minute ago. Will rolled the cigarette butt between his thumb and forefinger, inhaling one last time, before he flicked it away disgusted. 

* * *

Mackenzie exchanged greetings with the guard on duty when she went inside.

"Feeding the strays again?" Fred grinned from behind his desk, nodding at the bags in her hands.

Mac shrugged her shoulders, "God knows the interns can't afford lunch on what we pay them, so it's the least we can do to get them a doggie bag."

"Uh-huh," the guard looked at her amused, "maybe you shouldn't order a burger _and_ a sandwich to go with your salad."

"Guilty as charged," she smiled and reached into one of the bags and produced a milkshake, "For you."

"Ms McHale," Fred shook his head.

"Mackenzie," she reminded him.

"You shouldn't have."

"Do me a favor," Mac leaned in conspiratorially. "Would you block Will's pass to mess with him when he comes inside from his smoke?"

At first, Fred feigned shock, then he smirked knowingly, "What did he do this time?"

"Just being his usual annoying self. He called me in the middle of the night to run lines by me."

"He still hasn't caught on?"

"Not a fucking clue," Mac grinned as the sliding doors opened behind her.

Fred winked at her, signalling his co-operation, before he looked up to greet the incoming couple. Mac knocked on his desk twice and left him to do his work. However, when she tried to swipe her own card, the red light flashed up. 

"Very funny, Fed," Mac muttered as she swiped again, achieving the same result. Behind her, she recognized Tina Wakefield's voice who requested a visitor pass for a guest on her show. Knowing Fred was busy printing the temporary badge, Mackenzie tried her pass again - to no avail.

"Okay, that's enough," she called out over her shoulder, "cut the crap, Fred, or it won't be funny when Will comes in."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the guard leaned over his desk to check what was going on, "I'm not doing anything."

Mac frowned and inspected her pass to make sure the magnetic stripe was intact before she swiped it again. 

"Got fired over lunch?" Tina from _The Situation Room_ joked.

"I don't know," Mac shrugged her shoulders, "maybe it's my security key."

"Let me see," Fred held out his hand.

"It worked fine this morning when I came into work," Mackenzie turned around only to come face to face with her ex. She stared incredulously at the ghost from her past, while her arm extended numbly to hand over her pass to the guard.

"Hi," Brian greeted his ex-girlfriend amused. 

Mac was too stunned to return the greeting. What the hell was he doing here? How dare he infringe on her work place! There must be rules about this after a break up. He couldn't just show up at her office to humiliate her in front of her co-workers.

"Brian, this is Mackenzie McHale, the executive producer of our warm-up show _McNews_ ," Tina threaded her arm through Brian's, as she introduced them to each other, "Mac, this is Brian Brenner from _Newsweek_ who has graciously agreed to lend his expertise for a segment on Wolf's show tonight." The other woman beamed at the magazine editor, "And who knows maybe he'll write a piece about our new show that'll help us get the word out there."

"That would be a first," Mac raised her eyebrows at the familiarity between the other producer and her ex.

"I know," Tina gushed, "I'm pretty excited I managed to reel Brian in for our show. He's written extensively about the media landscape in our country and looks good in front of the cameras to boot. He's a real catch, I can't believe the other networks haven't tried to snatch him up before us." 

"No, I meant that would be the first time I'd see Brian do anything graciously in his life," Mac smiled sweetly at her ex, who just rolled his eyes exasperatedly at her, "I didn't even know that word was part of his vocabulary."

"O-kay," Tina looked warily between the two former lovers, sensing the history between them. 

"Mac and I are old friends," Brian explained and Mac snorted.

Fred, who had observed the awkward exchange involuntarily, returned Mackenzie's pass to her, before the situation could escalate. "Should be working now."

"Thanks, Fred," Mac took her card, "if you'll excuse me, I've got a show to run." She whirled around on her heels and stalked off to the entrance gate, swiping her card unsuccessfully. Come on, come on, don't do this to me now, she swiped it again frustrated. The result remained the same.

"Maybe, you're doing it wrong," Brian suggested, "you always _were_  a little clumsy."

"Goddammit," Mackenzie cursed under her breath, before she swiped her pass furiously again. And again. And again until the air filled with electricity suddenly. She sensed his presence behind her immediately, even before she felt that familiar grip of his fingers on her hip. Her breath caught and all she wanted to do right then was to curl up in his arms. She missed his touch so much! Instead, she let herself relax against his broad chest a little less obviously.

"Is the stupid machine acting up again?" Will had seen and heard enough. He decided to intervene and stopped her frantic movements. His head was so close, his lips almost brushed her ear, when he spoke softly. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to nestle her cheek against his. "Usually it's  _me_ it doesn't like." 

Mac and Fred exchanged furtive glances. Will really _was_ totally oblivious to the little prank the two of them had been playing on him for the past few months. The guard gave an almost imperceptible nod to confirm the joke was off. 

"I don't know why we had to install the stupid thing in the first place." The anchor continued, "We did just fine without it. All it ever does is reject my pass." He slid his arm around her hip and pressed their bodies together. "Let's see if mine works for a change," he announced as he swiped his own pass. Lo and behold, to his surprise, the gates opened and Will shuffled them quickly through like penguins. 

Brian's eyes narrowed with disdain for the familiarity in the the interactions between the anchor and his ex girlfriend. Without looking back, they walked to the elevator bank. McAvoy hadn't even acknowledged his presence with a greeting. Bastard still thought he was cut above the rest. Brian had never been able to understand why Mac idolized him so much. He was a pathetic anchor and a smug, self-righteous jerk. He didn't even have the decency to wait before he fucked his ex. She hadn't even flinched when McAvoy's fingers had grazed her skin. Instead, he had the distinct impression that she'd actually eased into the news anchor's touch.

"So..." Tina eyed Brian curiously, "you and Mackenzie, huh?"

"Yeah," Brian made a dismissive gesture, "we went out for a while."

"What happened?"

"I got tired of not being able to live up to her standards," Brian shrugged his shoulders, "not that anyone ever could."

* * *

"And that's the state of your world right now," Will spoke up after a long stretch of silence at the elevator bank.

Mackenzie who had been frantically pushing the call button, laughed out loud. She knew what he was trying to do and, damn him, it worked.

"Are you giving an annual address to congress or doing the news?" She turned around and met his mischievous grin, "By the way, did you call Dan Rather for copyright clearance on that one? Because it sounds an awful lot like 'And that's part of our world tonight.' There's no room for royalties in our budget."

The elevator dinged, so Will and Mac stepped aside to allow the throng of people disembark. Once they were alone again, Will put his hand over the sensor on the door to hold them open.

She mumbled a thank you, as she slipped past him. Will followed her inside, pressing the button for their floor. He leaned against the back wall next to her slouched form. Her arms were crossed and her eyes fixated on the floor. Will sighed heavily, as he put his arm across her shoulders.

"Hold the elevator," a voice called out and Mackenzie's hand darted instinctively out to reach the panel. When she looked up, though, and saw Tina and Brian walking towards them, she quickly pressed the button to close the door.

"Oops," she sighed dramatically as she stepped back next to Will, "clumsy old me pressed the wrong button!"

"Oh come on, Mac," Brian griped, "don't be such a bitch!"

"Sorry!" She shrugged her shoulders. She felt Will give a start next to her at the insult but she stopped him with a slap to his chest. Not entirely content to be put into his place like that by his EP, the anchor put a possessive arm around her waist, while he entered a silent stare down with the magazine writer through the closing doors.

Will felt Mackenzie relax against him, when the elevator started moving.

"Come here," he pulled her into a one-armed hug.

She went willingly and buried her face in his shoulder. "Thanks for coming to my rescue out there."

"Don't let him get to you," he pressed his nose against her hair and inhaled her scent.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Mac pulled back and huffed irritated, "He's got some nerve showing up here!" 

"Don't get worked up over this," Will reasoned with her, "you're just giving him what he wants."

"Did you see them together?" She pointed at the closed doors. "She was practically all over him. He's totally doing her."

"Of course, he is, he'd do anything to get on a show."

"Why did it have to be CNN, though? He could've gone with  _Face the Nation_ or _Meet the Press_ and made the rounds on Sunday network television, but no, he had to choose _The Situation Room_."

"Because he's a sleaze," Will sighed. He hated to see her so upset. Tears filled her eyes and Will wanted to punch the son of a bitch in his face for making this wonderful creature cry.

"He's doing this to humiliate me," she sniffled. "It's payback for all the times we didn't let him come on our show. God only knows what he's going to tell everyone about me." Mac groaned. "Oh God, I don't even want to know what he has already told Tina. He's really got some nerve showing up here. I have to work with these people!"

"He won't be here long enough to turn them against you if that's what you're afraid of," Will promised her.

"You don't know that."

Oh he could, Will thought, because he'd damn well make sure of that. "Yes, I do because he's an arrogant asshole. And he can't help himself, so he won't be able to hide it for long."

"Yeah but until then, he'll walk in and out of this place like he owns it."

"Not if we bribe Fred to frisk him every time."

She snorted.  

"I'm thinking full cavity search every time he wants to set foot in this building, what do you say?"

This time she laughed out loud. "That's not fair on Fred."

Will reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief.

He carefully dabbed her eyes, as he continued, "We can't walk into the bullpen with you looking like that or the minions will think I'm the one who made you cry. It'll undo all the progress I've made with them this morning. They've been giving me the cold shoulder since Friday."

She replied sarcastically, "And here I thought you were my knight in shining armor."

Will shrugged his shoulders just as the elevator announced their arrival. "Why don't you drop off the bags in the break room and take a few minutes to collect yourself while I corral the kids in one of the conference rooms for the rundown."

"Okay," Mac stepped off the elevator, "but they'll definitely know something's up if you helm the rundown."

"Are you saying I can't handle a rundown?" He frowned as she walked past him. "I'm the managing editor, you know." 

They looked around the empty bullpen and frowned. They'd been gone all morning, attending business meetings, relying on their staff doing the grunt work after the pitch meeting.

"Where the fuck _is_ everyone?"

One of the interns weaseled over, eyeing the bag in Mac's hands hungrily.

"All the producers are in the conference room on the fifth floor," Lionel explained

"And what on earth are they doing there?" Mac wanted to know before she handed over the bag.

The intern shrugged his shoulders, as he peeked into the plastic bag. "They told me to send you there when you get back. They've been there for hours already, preparing for the rundown."

"O-kay," Will nodded for Mackenzie to go into his office, "I'll head over and see what's going on. You come whenever you feel ready."

* * *

"Okay, what in God's name is going on here?" Will barked as he pushed the door to the conference room open.

The minions scrambled to their feet and looked curiously behind him.

"Where's Mackenzie?" Paul frowned suspiciously.

"She's still in the bullpen."

Stacy asked, "Why?"

Will growled, "Because that's where you all are supposed to be right now."

Wesley scratched his head baffled, "Didn't Anastasia tell you to meet us here? I could've sworn I told her..."

Frank looked at the anchor wide-eyed, "Did Mac quit?"

"What?" Will frowned, "No! Of course not, she's just...." he trailed off and sighed. "Can somebody please tell me why nobody's at their desks when we've got a rundown?"

Kristen asked, "Is Mac waiting for us in the bullpen? I'll call her cell..."

"No," Will shook his head, "she'll be here in a minute, she said we should start without her."

"Why?" Deb looked at him confused.

"Because I'm the managing editor." Wesley opened his mouth to say something but Will cut him off. "And anyone who's got a problem with that, there's the exit." Will pointed at the door, just when Mac appeared.

"What the hell's going on in here?" She looked at her staff sternly, "Are you giving Will a hard time?" The commotion settled down immediately while she slipped past Will to take the empty seat beside him. Patting his back, she leaned over his shoulder and mumbled, "Told you so." Will felt a shiver run down his spine when her fingers trailed over his back and the tip of her nose grazed his ear, as she bent over.

Turning back to the producers, she looked around the table as she sat down. "Alright, why are we here and who wants to go first?"

Paul rose from his chair and walked over to the large whiteboard on the wall. "You mentioned at the pitch meeting this morning that you'd like to do a debate on AB 849 this week as soon as possible..."

As Kristen joined Paul on the other side of the whiteboard, she continued, "... so we've been working our phones and contacts all day while the two of you were caught up in business meetings..." 

The duo pulled down the sheet that had been covering the whiteboard until now and the whole group announced, "Ta-da!"

"Are you serious?" Will looked back and forth between the board and the minions in disbelief.

"We open with Tom Delay and a summary of the World Summit in the A block," Stacy explained, "that is, national debt, R2P, HRC and the Peacekeeping Commission."

"We'll actually go with HRC last so we can use it to pivot to AB 849 at the end of the A-block," Kristen continued.

"We've put together a timeline of events, starting with AB 19, the original assembly bill Mark Leno used to introduce legislation on same-sex marriage back in December of last year," Frank pushed his laptop to the middle of the large conference table, giving Mac and Will a preview of the OTS graphic:

  * December 2004: Mark Leno introduced AB 19 to propose legalization of same-sex marriage
  * April 2005: California's Assembly Judiciary Committee approves AB 19 6-3 in a vote along party lines
  * May 2005: California Assembly Appropriations Committee greenlights AB 19 for a debate before the Assembly
  * June 2005: California Assembly votes 41-37 against AB 19 
  * 28 June 2005: AB 849 bait & switch: The text of Patty Berg's Department of Fish and Game AB 849 is replaced with Leno's AB 19 after it has already been voted on in the Assembly
  * 25 August 2005: AB 849 passes California Senate Appropriations Committee 7-4
  * 1 September 2005: California Senate votes 21-15 for AB 849 along party lines and sends it back to Assembly for reconsideration
  * 6 September: California Assembly votes 41-35 for AB 849
  * 7 September: Governor Schwarzenegger announces veto



"That should bring our viewers up to speed, and now to answer your question of why we should cover this," Frank smirked at Mackenzie and changed the graphics, "here's another OTS that shows what's at stake for people in the country. As of today, 18 out of 50 states have constitutional amendments or laws in place that restrict the definition of marriage to one woman and one man, and Texas is expected to join them because they put the vote on the November ballot."

  * Hawaii Constitutional Amendment: 3 November 1998: 69% approve of ban on gay marriage
  * Alaska Ballot Measure 2: 3 November 1998: 68% define marriage between man and woman only
  * California Proposition 22: 7 March 2000: 61% approve ban on gay marriage
  * Nebraska Initiative 416: 7 November 2000; 70% ban gay marriage and civil unions
  * Nevada Question 2: 5 November 2002: 67% approve ban on gay marriage
  * Arkanas Constitutional Amendment 3: 2 November 2004: 75% ban gay marriage and civil unions
  * Georgia Constitutional Amendment 1: 2 November 2004: 76% ban gay marriage and civil unions
  * Kentucky Constitutional Amendment 1: 2 November 2004: 75% ban gay marriage and civil unions
  * Louisiana Constitutional Amendment 1: 2 November 2004: 78% approve ban on gay marriage and civil unions
  * Michigan Proposal 04-2: 2 November 2004: 59% reject civil unions and gay marriage
  * Mississippi Amendment 1: 2 November 2004: 86% vote against gay marriage
  * Missouri Constitutional Amendment 2: 3 August 2004 71% vote against gay marriage
  * Montana Initiative 96: 2 November 2004: 67% vote against gay marriage
  * North Dakota Constitutional Measure 1: 2 November 2004: 73% approve ban on civil unions and gay marriage
  * Ohio Issue 1: 2 November 2004: 62% approve ban civil unions and gay marriage
  * Oklahoma Question 711: 2 November 2004: 76% ban civil unions and gay marriages
  * Oregon Ballot Measure 36: 2 November 2004: 57% approve ban on gay marriage
  * Utah Constitutional Amendment 3: 2 November 2004: 66% approve of ban on civil unions and gay marriages
  * Kansas Amendment 1: 5 April 2005: 70% approve ban on gay marriage and lack of recognition of civil unions



"Jesus!" Will whistled, "Subconsciously I've been aware of all of these developments but seeing that list..."

"I know," Mac sighed, "just goes to show what a long way still lies ahead of us as a people."

"We've budgeted 22 minutes for the debate," Ben joined the conversation and slid a list of names across the desk to the EP and managing editor, "We have democratic State Senator Casper Shepard, member of the California Legislative LGBT Caucus, a strong supporter of AB 18 from the get go. We also have Shawn Hollis, a licensed family therapist who ran on family values and Prop 22 when he beat the democratic incumbent in California's 138th district."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mac interrupted him, "I don't want Will stuck in the middle of a shouting match between a liberal and conservative pounding their own chests."

"He won't," Ben reassured her and nodded to Wesley.

"Deb and I have been working with our local affiliate on a human interest story. We've interviewed several gay and lesbian couples, some of which are married with children, about their personal experiences in their communities and with the current legislative situation."

"How long does the segment run?"

"We haven't finished editing yet."

Will leaned forward, "You can have 2 minutes and 20 seconds max at the bottom of the D block after we run world news. I believe there were elections in Germany and Afghanistan."

"See," Deb cut in, "we were hoping to get time at the beginning of the C block."

"You want your sob story to split my debate?" Will looked at her incredulously.

"Yes, well no," the science editor shook her head, "we want to use it to reframe the second half of it. When Wes and I did our research, we talked to a sociology professor from UC Berkeley about heteronormativity. We believe he can provide a fresh and qualified perspective on..."

"Yeah, I gotta stop you right there," Will held up his hand, "you start throwing around words like heteronormativity on my show and our viewers will switch channels."

Wes shook his head, "Not if we explain to them that it is an arbitrary social construct that largely defines the fabric of our society."

"And how are you going to achieve that?"

"By inviting Dr. Wolfe to come on our show and expand on what he says in the short interview for the human interest story we air before."

"Let's put a pin in that until after I've viewed the raw footage of his interview," Mac kept the meeting moving, "anything else regarding the debate?"

"Well," Kristen spoke up, "we were still debating whether we should ask someone form the Catholic League or the AFA come on our show."

"No," Jackson's deep voice boomed across the room, startling everyone. The D.C. bureau chief had managed to slip unnoticed into the conference room. "I'm not giving our televangelist competitors free airtime on our network." The staff looked at their old boss like deers in the headlight. "You're doing another debate?" The group nodded collectively.

"Yeah," Will nodded.

"AB 849? I like that."

"So do we," Mac grinned, "can I help you with something?"

"Don't mind me, it's your show now." He nodded for them to continue. "Will, can I see you after rundown?"

"Sure, we're almost done anyway."

"Great, I'll just hang in the back and play fly on the wall." 

"Right," Paul gathered everybody's attention again, "after the debate we go to world news as Will has suggested. Afghanistan held its first democratic general elections, Schröder's party got a good beating from the conservatives in Germany's over this weekend, and we struck a nuclear deal with North Korea."

"That's the D-block," Kristen took over, "for the E-block we have rumored lunar missions by NASA, Jeb Bush's son's arrest in Texas, and Sprint and RealNetworks' announcement for a new music streaming service. We kept it short on purpose, so we can use it for triage, in case the debate runs over, and we all know we can't trim our Emmy coverage in the F-block."

"Overall, I agree but that's an absolute no on Jebby Bush."

"Why?"

"Because it's not his fault his father is the governor of Florida. Celebrity kids are allowed to make the same mistakes you and I did when we were in college, it's called learning from experience."

"But..."

"End of story," Mac shut down the discussion, "is that all?"

The producers nodded.

"Thank you, everyone, you did great work on this." 

"Mac's right, we're both very impressed with the fine job you managed to pull off in such a short time. Whose idea was it?"

"Paul's."

"Kristen's."

"We came up with it together," Paul explained.

"It was a group effort really." Kristen deflected.

"I'm sure it was," Mac caught Jackson's eye who looked at her knowingly. The world desk editor and Hill expert had just tossed their hats into the race for senior producer. "Well, then, great job again. If there are no more questions, let's get back to the bullpen and get this show on the road."

"I've got a question," Jackson raised his hand while he scrutinized the writing on the whiteboard. "Has anyone thought to reach out to the Governor's office for, oh I don't know, **_a comment_**?!?" He raised his voice at the end of the sentence, glaring at his former staff who looked at their shoes sheepishly.

* * *

Once they were alone, George took Will to task, "I heard reports about yelling and fighting in the newsroom."

"Did someone file a complaint with HR about a hostile work environment?"

"No," Jack shook his head quickly, "but if you and Mackenzie keep duking it out in the middle of the bullpen, it'll only be a matter of time until someone does."

"We're just trying to find our stride," Will explained quickly.

"For Christ's sake, Will, you have an office. You can't settle your differences in front of your staff, take 'em there. You're scaring the kids. They won't know who's the boss and whose lead they should follow."

"It won't happen again, Jack. We'll make an effort to have our arguments in my office." 

"Did she try to change your wardrobe again?"

"What? No!" Will rolled his eyes. "You know how stubborn and idealistic she can be; I need to inject a little realism and pragmatism every once in a while."

"You sure that's all there is?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Good, because the last thing I need right now is for HR to run down my door everytime you and Mac have a disagreement."

"Understood," Will nodded and moved toward the exit.

"Just keep it in your pants, Will." George cut him off.

The anchor froze, "Come again?"

"Don't go looking for trouble, man."

"I'm not," Will insisted.

"She may be running your show but she's still technically your subordinate. I've got enough on my plate as is. I don't need to deal with the fucking HR nightmare if one of my anchors starts banging his EPs."

"I'm not _banging_  her, George, and I would remind you that it's Mackenzie you're talking about here. You wouldn't have tolerated that kind of language from anyone while she was your senior producer. Besides, you don't _bang_  a woman like Mac, you make love to her if you're lucky enough to be allowed into her bed."

"Fuck, Will!" Jackson blasted his anchor, "You promised me you wouldn't go after her when we hired her. I trusted you. I swear to God, Will, if you had me promote her because you're doing her, you've got another thing coming! Do you have any idea what kind of lawsuit you might've exposed us to? Did she break up with Brian because of you? How long have you been sleeping with her?"

"I told you, I'm not. We had a moment a little while ago but she's made it very clear that she doesn't want to pursue a relationship with me while we work together. Trust me, she's very adamant about that, so you've got nothing to fear from HR. She doesn't want anyone to think she's fucking her way to the top, so, again, I would appreciate it if you spared her the embarrassment of expatiating her sex life at work. We went out on a couple of dates but she stopped seeing me when she got her promotion. And I'm not dignifying your stupid insinuation I might have traded sexual favors for her career advancement with a response. This conversation's over."

"Will," Jackson stopped his anchor from an angry exit with a hand on his shoulder. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply... I know you'd never take advantage of her. Just keep it civil down there."

"Copy that," Will threw over his shoulder sarcastically as he pushed the door open, "I'll embark on a mission to civilize right now." 

* * *

As luck would have it, Will spotted Brian in the hallway on his way back to the bullpen. The anchor cornered his rival and shoved him into the next best wall. "I don't know how you finagled your way in here but you'll tank your performance tonight so they'll never ask you back."

"What's it to you, huh?" Brian snarled, "This is a free country, I can be wherever I want."

"I won't let you humiliate her."

The magazine writer sneered, "Why bother carrying coals to Newcastle? She usually takes care of that all by herself." 

"If you know what's good for you, you'll leave her alone. You don't call her. You don't text her. You don't touch her. You don't even look at her."

"Or what?" Brian smirked, "What are you gonna do, McAvoy?" He peered at the anchor's balled fists that still bunched up his suit.

Will let go of him, "Just stay away from her, you hear me?"

He turned around to leave but Brian snickered, "Just what I thought. All talk. You know what your problem is, Will?" Brian asked rhetorically while he smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit, "You've got no spine. You bend over backwards to pander to what little audience you've got. That's why you'll never be a heavy-hitter. You stand for nothing. And that little klutz you just hired as your EP will sink whatever's left of your show into oblivion with her naïve idealism."

"How the fuck did you stay this long with her if you're so embarrassed by her?"

Brian shrugged his shoulders, "The sex was good. But you know that already, don't you?"

"I bet it was for you," Will muttered under his breath.

"Hey, I never promised her anything," Brian defended himself, "and it sure as hell wasn't my idea that she come here. She did that all of her own will. I was fine with the long-distance thing, hooking up together every couple of months. I never led her on. I wasn't looking for anything serious."

Will shook his head, "You really _are_ an asshole."

"From the guy who fucks everything with a pussy between the legs. Don't think I didn't notice you didn't deny knowing what a good lay Mac is. Didn't take you long to make a move on my girlfriend."

For a moment it looked like Will might get rough with the magazine editor again but then thought the better of it. 

"Ex-girlfriend," the anchor reminded him. "And I should be so lucky! Your juvenile comments just show you never knew her at all."

"Oh and you do?"

"I certainly know her better than you! And I would never string her along like you did. You never loved her for who she is. All you ever did was find faults with her. For months I watched you put her down and belittle our work here and I kept my mouth shut because it was none of my business. You may mock her idealism but at least she believes in something so strongly, she's willing to fight me on it. You feel embarrassed by her clumsiness, but I think her silly little antics are adorable. You're annoyed by her bubbly personality, while I find her enthusiasm catching. Well, I've got news for you, Brian. Your opinion doesn't matter anymore. So take your digs and insults and shove 'em up your ass because you lost all of your rights and privileges when you dumped her like a piece of trash."

"Marking your territory now?"

Will scoffed, "I don't have to. You're in my house now, pal. And one word from me and you'll never set foot in this building again."

Brian blinked perplexed by the anchor's threat. "You don't have the clout."

"Maybe so," Will slumped a little but then straightened again, "but you'd be surprised to see how many doors a call from me can open - or close."

"What do you mean?"

"Tank tonight's performance and you'll find out."

"Why would I shoot myself in the foot like that? Wolf's a sure thing." 

"Because it's the right thing to do," Will tilted his head a little. "Never mind, my mistake, I thought you wanted to spend your Sunday mornings on TV."

"Are you fucking serious? You mean like _Face the Nation_?"

"No, but I can get you on _Meet the Press._ I'm sure you know how to sell yourself out to go from there." Will shrugged his shoulders and started walking away but then turned around once more, fixing Brian with an icy glare, "Oh, and if you ever call her a bitch again, you'll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life."

Once inside the elevator, Will took a deep breath. His knuckles where still white from where he had balled his hands into fists. He slouched against the wall and exhaled slowly. He could feel the tension leave his body, as his muscles relaxed one by one. A minute longer, and he might have made good on his threat. Fucking hell, he'd nearly lost his cool and punched Mac's ex in the face! Will closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Oh God, had his genes finally caught up with him? He'd  dedicated his time as a prosecutor to zero tolerance on domestic violence. He'd prided himself that he had escaped his father's shadow while there was still time to become something better and now it seemed that the monster had been inside him all along, just waiting to be woken by the right trigger. So much for his mission to civilize!

The elevator arrived on the right floor and the doors opened much too soon for Will's taste. To make things worse, Mackenzie was waiting for him.

"Hey!" She looked him up and down, "You alright?"

"Yeah," Will stumbled out of the elevator car.

"What did Jack want from you?"

"Oh nothing," he ran his fingers through his hair, literally wanting to be anywhere but near her at this moment. She couldn't see him like this.

"O-kay," she drawled.

"Just a friendly reminder that we've still got no successor for senior producer."

Mac nodded, "We'll talk after tonight's show, ok? I'm already late for my meeting with the marketing guys."

"Yeah," Will seemed relieved, "no problem. I'll be in my office writing my copy."

"Good," she smiled at him as she pressed the button for her floor.

"Yeah," Will watched the doors close.

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Mac stopped Will without looking up from her desk in the bullpen where she was speed-reading through his copy before approving it for the teleprompter.

"The studio? I was just getting ready to..." He stuttered and his steps faltered as he pointed toward the elevators.

"Not in that tie, you're not," Mac grunted as she dropped the papers and leaned over to open the bottom drawer of her desk.

"How'd you even?" He looked at her baffled, "You weren't even looking!"

"Didn't have to," she replied dryly, as she perused the selection of ties she kept for Will, "that colourful monstrosity was screaming at me from right across the bullpen and burnt right through my eye lids."

"You're creepy, you know that?" He complained as he loosened the tie he was wearing around his neck. "Like a fly, you know, with those weird things on their heads?"

"You mean compound eyes?" She stood up and walked over to him.

"Yesss!!" He smirked, "Lord of the Flies with 360 degree vision."

"You are aware you just compared me to a pig's head?" She arched one eyebrow.

"Right, my bad, I'll stick to Broadway metaphors from now on and leave British lit to you."

Mac pulled his old tie down, shaking her head, "I swear sometimes I don't know what the guys in wardrobe are thinking."

She looped the new tie around his neck, slipping it underneath his collar. She was so close and smelled so good. Was she wearing a new perfume? Had she always smelled this heavenly? The fragrance made him feel light-headed, or maybe it was her featherlight touch as her fingers grazed the soft skin on his throat. Will's body started to tingle as her slender fingers fumbled with his collar and adjusted the ends of his tie. Before he knew it, he had completely zoned out on her.

"It's like they all turn colourblind over there on some days," Mac continued. Her deft fingers tied a perfect Windsor. God, having her this near without being able to touch her or kiss her was sheer torture. He could feel her warm breath as she exhaled slowly, concentrating on fixing his tie. If he lowered his head just a little bit and waited until she looked up at him again, he could just dart out his tongue and slip it inside her surprised mouth.  

"There you go." She adjusted the knot and straightened the tie so he could breathe more comfortably while still looking suave. 

There should be a kiss at the end of such a domestic moment between them. That's how it went on TV when wives fixed ties for their husbands, didn't it? Maybe he could get away with a quick peck on her lips?

"Will?" She stepped back and looked at him amused.

He felt her pat his chest and snapped out of his daydream. Damn, he'd missed his moment. She was peering up at him, studying his reaction quizzically. He sucked in air, realizing only then that he'd been holding his breath for the better part of the last minute. No wonder he felt so light-headed.

"Thank you," he mumbled dopily. Great comeback, Will, he kicked himself mentally.

* * *

"Almost two weeks ago, on September 6th, in an unprecedented instance, the California legislative body voted for marriage equality, without prompting from the courts. AB 849, which passed the California Senate with a 21-15 majority on the first of September, was sent back for reconsideration to the California State Assembly, where it was approved with 41-35 votes a week later. California's Governor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, however, immediately announced his veto via a statement through his press secretary Margita Thompson:  _We cannot have a system where the people vote and the Legislature derails that vote. Out of respect for the will of the people, the governor will veto."_

Will swiped up his copy and faced the camera directly after the segment ended. "Joining us live from Sacramento now, is Rosalind Muniz, special advisor to the Governor. Good afternoon, Ms Muniz."

"Good afternoon, Will, thanks for giving the Governor's Office a chance to explain our standpoint."

"Fire away."

"Governor Schwarzenegger has supported the LGBTQ community in California since his first day in office. California is currently leading the country in many LGBTQ issues. The _Domestic Partner Rights and Responsibilities Act of 2003_ , for example, puts gay and lesbian couples in California on equal footing with their heterosexual fellow citizens. There are currently 30,000 registered same-sex couples taking advantage of state benefits and protections."

"And one of them is California State Senator, Caspar Shepard, a staunch supporter of AB 849. Good afternoon, Senator."

"Hi, Will, thank you for having me on your show. If I may, I'd like to jump right in and correct Rosalind on something she said. The  _Domestic Partner Rights and Responsibilities Act of 2003_ does not give LGBTQ couples equal rights. While it is true that the bill gives us access to hundreds of state benefits, it still excludes us from a thousand more federal benefits, one of which is filing tax returns jointly - federal or state."

"I hear you Caspar," Rosalind replied, "but the Governor of California cannot change federal law!"

"No, but he can not veto the bill and help us pass a law that provides a more inclusive definition of marriage through which we could eventually enjoy those benefits, too."

"Somebody who has a say in that matter is Congressman Shawn Hollis, who represents California's 138th district on the Hill," Will turned to the guest next to him, "Good evening, Congressman."

"Evening, Will."

"Congressman, what is your reaction to AB 849 passing in your home state?"

"I'm appalled, Will, to be quite frank. Five years ago, the people of California overwhelmingly voted in favor of the _California Defense Act of Marriage_."

"Congressman, I assume you and Ms Muniz are both referring to Proposition 22, which added the following amendment to Section 308.5 of the California Family Code's definition of marriage:  _Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California._ "

"That's right, Will, the people have spoken and we have to respect their will."

"Not according to Judge Richard Kramer of the San Francisco County Superior Court, who ruled Prop 22 unconstitutional in March of this year on the grounds that it violates the civil rights of homosexual people."

"What violations?" Hollis boomed, "We've already given these people everything they want! It's not enough that we've allowed them to make a joke out of the institution of marriage by extending marital rights to unmarried couples with the _Domestic Partner Rights Act_? Now they want to change the sacred definition of marriage and shove their liberal gay agenda down my throat?"

"Shawn, with all due respect, have you even read AB 849?" Shepard countered, "Because if you did, you'd know that none of what you've just said is true. We've crafted the text of AB 849 very carefully taking into account conflicting religious opinions. AB 849 makes provisions for religious groups and officiants to refuse marrying same-sex couples on religious grounds, without fear of discrimination lawsuits. But we have a separation of church and state in California and marriage is more than a spiritual union between a man and a woman. It is a civil contract between two people in a committed relationship that grants them health plan benefits, family and medical leaves, social security benefits, visitation rights, medical decisions, immigration sponsorships, property inheritance, child custody, community property, financial support to name but a few. Congressman, we may not share your religious believes but we respect them and all we ask in return is that you respect our civil rights."

"Will, I want to go back to something you mentioned earlier," Rosalind Muniz spoke up again, "the appeal of Prop 22 is another reason the Governor refuses to sign the bill. He thinks AB 849 would just contribute to the confusion surrounding the issue while a court decision is pending."

"Yeah," Caspar Shepard sneered, "it's called passing the buck."

"Caspar," Muniz reasoned with the state senator, "as Congressman Hollis has pointed out we can't just ignore the will of the people."

"I work on behalf of the people of California, Rosalind," Shepard reminded the Governor's special advisor. "Are you saying my mandate counts less than yours?"

"I'm saying some issues are too important to be resolved by representatives. Put the question on the ballot again and we'll see if popular opinion has shifted from nay to yea."

"I think this is a good point for a little break. When we come back from commercials, Dr. Sam Wolfe, a sociology professor from Berkley is going to join our debate."

* * *

"Welcome back to McNews. I'm Will McAvoy and here with me are Rosalind Muniz, special advisor to Governor Schwarzenegger; Caspar Shepard, a democratic California state senator who has been a staunch supporter of AB 849 since its inception; Republican Congressman Shawn Hollis, a former family therapist who now represents California's 138th district; and Dr. Sam Wolfe, sociology professor at UC Berkley, to debate AB 849, the bill that would make marriage equality a reality in California. But first we go to Sandy Kwan in San Francisco who talked to gay and lesbian couples about the current situation and their hopes for further legislation."

* * *

"Dr. Wolfe, as a sociologist who has studied human behavior extensively in societies all over the world, how do you explain the tremendous discrimination and ridiculous accusations against LGBTQ couples we've just seen?"

"Well, Will, it's very simple actually. Historically, most Western Societies have always operated on the principles of heteronormativity."

Will cut in, "Could you explain that term to our viewers?"

"Sure," Dr. Wolfe smiled, "think of the Chinese symbol for yin-yang, two yings can't fit together naturally."

_**"Get me a graphic of the ying yang symbol stat!"** _

"So you're saying that yin and yang represent the male and female gender respectively, which complement each other."

"Exactly, and because of biological restrictions, men and women depend on each other for the purpose of procreation. You're still with me?"

_**Mac frowned. Was the good doctor flirting with her anchor?** _

"Yeah," Will chuckled and took the sociology professor's flirtatious side in stride.

"Right, so most Western Societies have adopted heterosexuality as the norm because it is required by nature for procreation and divided social roles according to male and female gender. By extension all other forms of sexuality are considered to lead inevitably to extinction of mankind. Consequently they have been marginalized and at times criminalized by Western societies in order to protect the human species."

"So you're saying a lot of people have prejudices against members of the LGBTQ community because gays and transgenders don't fit into the concept of a society which has been neatly organized according to feminine and and masculine roles."

"Yep," Dr. Wolfe nodded, "but the thing is, Will, societies evolve over time and so do gendered roles and family structures. The nucleus family, that is mother father, child, is a creation of the Cold War era. And two hundred years ago, Ms. Muniz here would have been still considered property of her husband and not allowed to vote, let alone hold anything even remotely resembling political office."

_**"Don't let it get personal, Will."** _

Rosalind Muniz jumped in before Will could interfere, "And thank God for that, Dr. Wolfe. I agree with you that the fabric of our society is constantly changing but these changes need to develop _naturally_ from the people, through the people, and with the people. They can't be imposed by laws or governments."

_**"Don't let the debate get away from you, Will."** _

"Sure they can," Will spoke up immediately, "we actually fought a war over it, as Congressman Hollis surely would like to remind us all."

"You know, Will, I'm getting sick and tired of people insinuating that just because I'm black I have to automatically support all other minority groups' agendas out of solidarity."

"Congressman, I was actually referring to your roots as a Republican, not the color of your skin, since it was the Republican party under Abraham Lincoln, which..." 

"And really, Will, dragging the Civil War into this debate? We all know by know that white industrialists from the North used slavery as a pretense to secure their economic interests with the south..."

Everyone's jaw dropped at that statement.

_**Mac's eyes widened, "Did I just hear an African-American congressman downplay slavery's role in the secession?"** _

"...Slavery was a pricey, time-consuming, and obsolescent business model because it was too expensive in labor in comparison to the goods manufactured in the north..."

_**"Who the fuck voted for that guy?" Nick shook his head in disbelief.** _

_**Dax joked, "White supremacists with a twisted sense of humor?'** "_

_**"Shut it," Mac glared at the boys, then looked at the monitor, "Will, help him out. I don't think he understands what he's really saying."** _

"...If these so-called abolitionists hadn't been so greedy and let the system of slavery phase out peacefully over the next few years, a lot of bloodshed could've been avoided. But that wouldn't have been in their best business interests, now would it? So they waged war on their brothers instead, trying to impose their view of the world on them." 

"Congressman, I just want to make sure that you're not advocating slavery as a minor inconvenience in the antebellum South."

"No, of course, not, but freed slaves weren't really free men in the Reconstruction Era, were they? Your kind found new ways to oppress my people and passed new laws to restrict our social mobility. So all the Civil War shows us is that you can't impose moral convictions and social values on people."

"Which is exactly why I disagree with Ms Muniz," Dr. Wolfe retorted. "Some issues are too important to be put before the public to vote. In a heteronormative world, the ruling group of white men has absolutely no desire to weaken their power by changing the status quo. Which is why we would have never had the Civil Rights Act of 64 or the Equal Pay Act the year before, if we had put those decisions before the public to vote. Still, I think most of us will agree that both laws are milestones in the history of our country, even if, as Ms Muniz and Congressman Hollis have pointed out, we're still a long way from accomplishing equal pay and rights on all fronts. Sometimes it takes the government to provide incentives for social change."

 Will addressed Hollis, "Well, Congressman, according to your logic you can't force your conservative agenda, consisting of marriage restrictions and anti-abortion laws, on LGTBQs and liberals, either. It seems we have reached an impasse. But perhaps we can agree moving forward that Brown v. Board of Education was a landmark achievement that finally accelerated de-segregation in the South and strengthened the Civil Rights Movement in a way the Civil War had not succeeded?"

"Sure, if you want. Still doesn't make me sympathetic to the gay cause. I can't change the color of my skin, whereas homosexuals can be cured."

_**"What?" Nick yelled out in disbelief. "Did he just say...?"** _

Caspar Shepard and Dr. Wolfe snorted amused. 

"As a sociologist and gay man, I can absolutely assure you that homosexuality is not a disease. It's not a choice, either. Who would choose a life of discrimination and ostracism if there were a readily available cure or solution?"

"Well, and as a licensed family therapist, I can give you a long list of happy parents whose confused teenagers I sorted out."

Everyone else at the panel stared at the politician speechlessly. 

"Homosexuality is an identity-disorder, in which the subject is confused about their gender identity, which comes as no surprise when our children are surrounded by gay characters everywhere on TV. They watch Will & Grace and become confused about their sexuality." 

_**"Will," Mac got the anchor's attention, "spin this into... something."** _

_**Will gave a WTF-look into the camera and Mackenzie shrugged, "I don't know, either, just... stop him."** _

Will opened his mouth to cut in but the Congressman wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.

Hollis continued, "As Dr. Wolfe has correctly pointed out, our society punishes bad behavior and rewards good one. We certainly don't hand out special rights to sexual deviants. And we most definitely can't allow homosexualists to curtail our God-given rights with their liberal gay agenda!"

Will spoke very fast to take advantage of the breath the congressman had to take, "Give us one example where AB 849 infringes on your civil rights, Congressman."

"Take Chase Harper, for example," Hollis started again, "he was suspended from school for exercising his right to free speech because some intolerant homosexualist was offended by what he said."

_**"He's referring to an incident from Day of Truth last April," Mackenzie realized and instructed Dax to pull up some quick data and picture of the T-shirt in question.** _

Will talked over his guest, "With all due respect, congressman, that's not the question I asked. How does AB 849 curtail your personal freedom or civil rights?"

_**Mac reminded him, "Don't talk over your guests, Will, that's news anchoring 101. You don't want to appear impolite. Meanwhile here are some facts: Day of Truth, organized by the Alliance Defense Fund, which is in the pocket of Focus on the Family, is an effort by religious conservatives to fight back the Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network, GLEN's Day of Silence. Dax is putting up a photograph of the T-shirt as we speak."**_

Hollis went on, "All he did was speak his honest opinion, based on his faith, that homosexuality is an abomination, just as God tells us in the Bible. And on Day of Truth no less! When can we speak the truth, if not on Day of Truth?!?"

"Are you referring to the event organized by the Alliance Defense Fund last April in response to GLENS' Day of Silence?" Will cut in and the congressman nodded. "We have a photo of Chase Harper wearing his T-shirt. If it's a little hard to read for our viewers, it says 'be ashamed [...] our school has embraced what God has condemned' on the front and 'Homosexuality is shameful - Romans 1:27' on the back - is that the incident you're referring to?"

"Yes, Will, where is the tolerance homosexualists preach to us about every day? Who are the bullies now? Day of Silence is nothing else than one big promotion campaign for homosexuality in our schools. Every year those lesbian and gay students parade their frivolous lifestyle, so they can harass good, God-fearing students."

_**"We found a quote for you, Dax is putting it on your monitor. Read it and ask the congressman about the cards. Write down, "Speaking of tolerance, congressman, we found a card your students handed out at the event, which says, then read the text off the monitor. Tap your pen if you copy; tap it twice if you need me to repeat it."** _

Will scribbled down the words and tapped his pen.

"And our school officials just stand by, watching gay and lesbian students take over their schools. Worse, some of them even actively support these events, indoctrinating young kids with ideas about homosexuality and transgender lifestyles, which isn't unsimilar to what we've seen Hitler do with German youth in the 1930s."

_**"Unsimilar isn't even a word," Mac growled, "for the love of God, Will, do something!"** _

Will nodded and waited patiently until the congressman had to take another breath and seized the opportunity immediately, "Speaking of tolerance, we found a card students passed around on Day of Truth:  _I'm speaking the Truth to break the silence. True tolerance means that people with differing—even opposing—viewpoints can freely exchange ideas and respectfully listen to each other. It's time for an honest conversation about homosexuality. There's freedom to change if you want to. Let’s talk._ Freedom to change?Congressman, how can there be a dialogue if there's no intent to look for common ground?" 

Caspar Shepard scoffed and cut in, "Well, that cards says it all, Will. What's the point of an honest, open conversation about homosexuality, why bother with a free exchange of ideas, if the only accepted outcome is the freedom to change? Not much choice and freedom in there if you ask me."

"While I think the right to free speech is a fundamental pillar of our democratic society," Rosalind Muniz jumped back in, "there's been a recent study from the Southern Poverty Law center outlining how the rhetoric used to talk about gays has crossed the line into hate-speech. We need to find a careful balance between free speech and hate-speech and we need to raise awareness for that, which is exactly why the Governor signed the Omnibus Hate Crimes bill last year."

"Well, work faster, Rosalind," Caspar pressured the special advisor, "because I've read Mark Potoc's article too and, frankly, it scares me. Hate-speech and hate-crimes are not the same by the way."

"Exactly, we can't censor people's thoughts," Dr. Wolfe joined the conversation again. "The very thought to criminalize somebody for what they think chills me. I mean where would we begin and where would we end? That could be a very dangerous precedent we set."

Sherpard countered, "We're moving towards a culture of extremism, fake science and personal demonization. This is why it's so important for Governor Schwarzenegger to stop being such a chicken-shit about AB 849. It's time to step up to the plate and show some leadership skills."

"I take exception to your characterization of the Governor, Caspar. Governor Schwarzenegger always has the best interest of  _all_ Californians at heart. Just this last July he extended the statue of limitations for hate crimes from two to three years. Overall, Governor Schwarzenegger has done more for the LGTBQ community in California than any governor before him, including democrats."

_**"Here we go with the name calling," Mac sighed, "nip it, Will."** _

Will followed up on the Governor's veto, "Rosalind, why hasn't the Governor already..."

At the same time, Congressman Hollis spoke up again, "I'm glad the Governor seems to finally have come to his senses, though, Rosalie. He's finally realized that if you give these people an inch, they'll take a mile. He's been far too lax on these issues but thank God he's seen the light and won't let special interest groups pressure him into signing a bill that would lead to a domino effect."

_**"Just wrap this nightmare up, Will, and go to commercials."** _

"If California passes AB 849," Congressman Hollis continued, "other states will follow and deliver this beautiful country straight into the hands of pedophiles who'll demand legalization of sex with children next."

Everyone's jaw literally dropped at that utterance. Will was caught completely off-guard and missed his opportunity to silence the congressman. By the time the anchor had regrouped, any attempt to interrupt the politician's rant was futile.

_**"Get out."** _

"Congressman, I don't think," Will tried but the politician simply raised his voice and talked over the anchor.

**_"I said get out, Will!"_ **

"And where does it stop, Will? Gays can't be monogamous, no matter what they say. They're out to destroy the institution of marriage and eradicate the very foundation of our Christian society."

_**"Just dump out of it already!"** _

Meanwhile, on the split TV screen, the other participants watched the diatribe in sheer disbelief and shock.

"If we allow these people to marry," the congressman continued unperturbed, "we get into bed with the devil and God's punishment will be prompt. Have we learned nothing from Katrina? God struck down the blasphemous and promiscuous life in New Orleans with a hurricane and it will happen here next, if we tinker with the sacred definition of marriage."

_**"Are you waiting for the rapture," Mac and Will heard Jackson's sharp voice suddenly in their ears, "or why the fuck haven't you gone to commercials yet?"** _

_**"We're trying, Jack," Mac defended Will, "he's not letting him speak. And it's not like we can cut his feed and claim technical difficulties. He's our studio guest!"** _

_**"End this, Mac, or I will yank your entire show off the air. Wolf's already waiting in the wings..."**_

"Congressman..." Will tried to interrupt the politician again.

"Mark my words, Will..."

"...we really have to go to commercials now."

"...God will punish California with an earthquake,"

"Wait, what?"

"...if Governor Schwarzenegger doesn't veto AB 849 and saves us all from God's wrath. That's all I have to say."

"Welllll," Will played for time, hoping Mackenzie would tell him through his ear what to say like some kind of divine intervention, "thankfully our viewers in California can use our break to stock up on supplies for their survival kits. I want to thank all my guests for the... um... interesting debate. We'll be back from commercials with our exclusive Emmy coverage, so don't stray too far. You wouldn't want to miss it."

Will waited until the signal that he was off-air.

"Mac?" He leant back exhausted in his chair, "Send in an intern to escort the congressman off the premises."

Lionel appeared out of nowhere, as if he'd been on stand-by the whole time, to take the guest's microphone.

"Fuckin' fairies," Hollis seemed pleased with his appearance, as he rose to his feet, "always out to divide this country, am I right?"

"Now, please!" Will raised his voice, ignoring the congressman's attempt at small talk.

"Okay, I can see you're still in the zone," Shawn Hollis chuckled and slapped the anchor on his shoulder. 

"Please don't touch me, sir," Will swiveled around in his chair and glared at the politician.

_**"Get the man out of there before Will blows a gasket!" Mac shouted to nobody particular in the control room.** _

The congressman held his hands up apologetically.

"Sir," Lionel pointed politely to the studio exit.

"Well, then, it was a pleasure, Will," the congressman extended his arm to shake hands with the anchor, "I'm looking forward to coming on your show more often."

"Just get the hell out of my face," Will rose to his full height, "I believe you were asked to leave."

_**"Will!" Mac reprimanded him instantly.** _

"Well, I've never? Have you forgotten who I am?"

"You, sir, are a disgrace to the United States Congress and an insult to human intelligence."

"You can't talk to me like that. I'm a United States congressman!" 

_**"Don't do it. Just get back into your chair."** _

"Not for very much longer," Will looked down at the shorter man, "after this appearance, your days on the Hill are numbered. You discredited yourself. Did you even hear yourself? You practically downplayed slavery! There's no PR company in the world that could spin your verbal diarrhea positively." 

**_"Are you out of your fucking mind?"_ **

"You'll regret this!"

"I'll take my chances," Will shrugged his shoulders, "and now get the fuck out of my studio before I call security."

The congressman huffed and puffed before he turned on his heels and stormed out of the studio

_**"Get the fuck back into your chair right now, Will! Commercials are almost over."** _

Much to his EP's irritation, Will yanked the IFB out of his ear as he took his seat behind the anchor desk. Nick had started the countdown already, when the anchor slammed his stack of papers on the desk to arrange the sheets into a neat pile.

Mac shook her head resigned. She'd let him stew through the D-block and visit him in the studio during the next break.


	18. Baby, I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

The door to the newsroom busted open so hard that it banged back from the wall, and everyone in the bullpen flinched in their seats. Will flung his arms wide open and thundered, "Jerry Falwell wasn't available?"

Mackenzie motioned for everyone to stay calm and stepped directly into the line of fire, "Let's not overreact, Will. Why don't we take this to your office?"

"Overre..." he harrumphed, "you think I'm _over_ reacting? I just made Ted Baxter look like a fucking genius!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad?" He looked at her in disbelief, "We just gave twenty minutes of free airtime to a complete lunatic who thinks abolition was a scam, gays cause earthquakes and hurricanes but, luckily, we can cure them with electroshock therapy!"

"Okay," Mac relented, "so the optics aren't great but..."

"Mac," Will bulldozed right over her, "today's show was a complete disaster! We're lucky Jackson wasn't waiting for us in the bullpen with letters of resignation!" He whirled around and glared at his minions. "Which one of you is responsible for this cluster fuck?"

"Oi!" Mackenzie threw herself between the anchor and producers, "Don't yell at my staff. Yell at me all you want, but you do _not_ yell at my staff."

"They're _my_ staff," Will bellowed, " _I'm_ the managing editor, you all work for me. So I yell at whomever I please if you guys embarrass me in front of the whole country!"

"I don't think quite the whole nation was watching..."

"You think I'm joking?" Will stepped into her personal space, "Where the fuck were you? You're supposed to protect me from incidents like this! I trusted you, Mac, and you made me look like an amateur on national television!"

"You're mad, I get it, Will. I take full responsibility for what just happened but there was nothing," she emphasized, "absolutely nothing in the pre-interview that even hinted at the possibility of what just happened."

"Who did the interview?"

"You know I'm not going to tell you that but I supervised them and I promise you nothing raised a red flag with me. You can read the transcript, if you want, so you can see for yourself."

Will sighed and ran his fingers frustrated through his hair. He looked around the bullpen and saw the distraught faces of the minions. "Maybe George was right."

"Right about what?"

"Maybe it was a mistake hiring you," Will muttered under his breath but loud enough for her to hear.

Mac froze, "Come again?"

"You're my fucking EP, Mackenzie," he shouted, "and I don't know if you're up to the job anymore."

"Let's talk about this in your office, shall we?" Mac tried to reason with him, "Calmly." She took his arm and steered him to his office. Just before they reached it, she turned around and addressed the staff, "Go home, show's over. Staff meeting tomorrow at eight."

Despite Mac's instructions, only a few interns started to pack up for the day. The producers rallied behind their EP and formed a line in front of Will's window, watching the anchor and EP bicker and banter through the open blinds.

"It's not right," Stacy said, "she's taking the fall for us."

"We didn't really do anything," Frank pointed out.

Kristen worried, "He's going to fire her."

"He can't," Paul shook his head, "without her, he'd be in a fix. He knows that. He needs someone to run his newsroom for him."

They watched Will gesticulate wildly and look up right at them. A moment later, he grabbed Mackenzie's hand and dragged her into his private bathroom away from prying eyes.

"Provided he still has one. Will's not the problem right now," Ben reminded them. "Jackson asked to be patched through to the studio and control room to reprimand Will and Mackenzie on air."

Mark frowned, "You think George might cancel us?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders, "He'll certainly give us less leeway with the new direction of the show we've been pursuing."

Deb sighed, "What a shame, I really liked where we were going."

The others chorused, "Me, too."

* * *

"50 per cent," Mac announced as she closed the door.

Will looked at her lost, "What?'

"I take 50% of the responsibility, the rest is on you."

The anchor roared, "Are you fucking kidding me now? It's _your_ job to vet our guests!"

"And I take the full responsibility for that but you, ol' pal, let the debate get away from you." 

"What are you even talking about?" Will protested.

"When I tell my anchor to dump out of it, I expect him to do just that."

"And how the fuck was I supposed to do that when I could barely get a word in?"

"My point exactly, you let the debate get away from you. And what the fuck were you thinking mouthing off to a congressman off-camera? Jackson could sack you just for that!"

"He won't be a problem, he completely discredited himself."

"Why'd you lose your cool with him? He's not the first jackass to appear on our show and he won't be the last one."

"You were there. You heard what he said?"

"Good luck trying to get someone on the Hill for a comment on a story after that."

Will looked up and saw that the minions were still staring at them through the open blinds. You can't duke it out in front of them, he heard Jackson's voice inside his head. Without much further ado, he grabbed Mackenzie's hand and dragged her out of sight.

"And don't you _ever_ ," Mac continued as she was pulled into his bathroom for privacy, "pull out your IFB again for as long as I'm in your control room."

Once inside, she felt her body being slammed against the door, which he shut with the full force of his movement. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, their bodies heaving from their labored breathing, until the unresolved sexual tension between them just exploded.

"Fuck it," Mac muttered and reached for Will's lapels just as he made his move. Their lips touched and they both moaned out loud. They devoured each other with deep and passionate kisses while their hands roamed across their bodies, getting reacquainted with curves, dips and valleys.

"This isn't working, Mackenzie," Will mumbled against her lips.

"I know," Mac sighed as she buried her fingers deeply in his hair, "we can't go on like this."

He kissed her hard, swallowing her moans. After a passionate lip lock, which felt like an eternity, Will pulled back and bumped their foreheads together softly. They breathed heavily. Mac touched her mouth where his lips had lingered until a moment ago.

"I'm sorry I had garlic fries for lunch," she blurted out and winced inwardly. Will kisses her and that's the first thing out of her mouth? Way to keep your cool, Mackenzie!

The corner of Will's mouth twitched amused, "Well, had I known I'd be kissing you this evening, I would've forgone the onions on my burger, too."

An embarrassed silence settled between them. Don't blow this, McAvoy, Will mentally berated himself.

"So," he cleared his throat, "where do we go from here?"

"I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders. "Shit, Will, I _really_ don't know."

"I'm _not_ your rebound," he stated emphatically.

"No," she shook her head, "you deserve more than that."

"So what are we gonna do then?"

"Start it slow?"

"I can do that," he nodded confidently.

"Good," she was nodding now, too, "because I really don't want to hurt you but I'm not sure I should jump into another relationship quite yet."

"That's fine," he pulled her close and brushed his lips against her temple, "we can take all the time we need, Mac. There's no pressure. I just want to spend time with you and get to know you better."

She looked up at him and smiled, "That's how I feel about you."

"Good, but I want to be more than friends," he clarified, "I want to be able to touch you and kiss you."

"Then what's keeping you?" She gave him a flirtatious smile.

He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers again. Mac's phone started ringing but they kissed through it. Her hands reached for Will's waistband and began to unbuckle his belt. He groaned and pressed his erection into her thigh. 

"God, you're driving me crazy," he nuzzled her neck, "prancing around the office in your short skirts and sexy tops."

She pulled back, "You mean this? My work blouses?!?"

Will mumbled as his lips trailed down her throat, "No hot-blooded male with a pulse could possibly focus on work while you're wearing this blouse." His fingers unbuttoned it deftly, revealing more cleavage."You have no idea what you're doing to me. I'm this close to losing my mind."

"I think I must have lost mine already," Mac breathed huskily into his ear, "letting you undress me in here with twenty reporters waiting outside."

Will mumbled around a mouthful of breast, "We'll just be very quiet."

Just at that moment his phone starting ringing.

"It's Jackson," Mac sighed, "he won't give up until he reaches one of us."

"He can wait," Will ignored his phone. He went back to making out with her and sighed relieved when the noise stopped. Mac buried her fingers in his hair again and kissed him passionately. The reprieve was short-lived, though, as a second later Will's office phone started ringing.

She broke away from his kiss. "Come on," she took his hand and reached for the door behind her with her free hand, "we better go up and face the music."

"Wait!" Will stopped her, looking at their intertwined fingers.

"Right," she realized her mistake and let go of him. If they walked out holding hands and half-dressed, the gossip machinery would kick into full gear. And the last thing she needed right now was for people to claim she got where she was by sleeping with her anchor. 

"You storm out and just head home, pretending to be still mad at me," Will formed a plan as he fixed his pants and belt, while Mackenzie buttoned her blouse, "I'll wait a few minutes and go smooth things over with Jackson. Sound like a plan?"

"Yeah," she kissed him hard, "don't take too long."

Will closed his eyes and groaned.

"I'll be at your place as soon as I can," he promised her.

She pulled back and combed his hair into place with her fingers. She stole another kiss before she slipped out, leaving behind a dumbstruck and lovesick news anchor. What the fuck had just happened here?

* * *

"They've been awfully quiet in there," Mark observed concerned.

"You don't think he's killed her?!?" Frank looked at him wide-eyed.

"Does he keep any sharp objects in his bathroom?" Paul asked Will's assistant.

Mark looked at his colleague bewildered, "How the fuck am I supposed to know that?"

"You're his assistant!"

"That doesn't mean I go snooping around his office!"

"I would," Stacy admitted freely.

"Should we call 911?" Frank wondered.

"He's not going to bludgeon her to death," Stacy rolled her eyes.

"How do you know?" Mark crossed his arms, "They've been in there for a really long time."

"Because we're not in middle school anymore where boys show their affection by throwing things at girls."

Paul frowned, "The fuck are you talking about?" 

"Seriously? They totally have the hots for each other."

"Will and Mac?" The world news editor gaped surprised. 

"Oh my God, Paul! You were with us in New Orleans! How could you have _not_ noticed them dancing around each other?"

The door to Will's bathroom opened and they went back to their desks, pretending to work.

"Well, seems to me no love's lost there," Kristen observed.

Mackenzie strode wordlessly through the bullpen to her desk, where she gathered her stuff under the watchful eyes of her staff. For fear of tripping up, she kept the communication to a bare minimum. 

"What are you lot still doing here?" Mac rolled her eyes, "I thought I told you to go home?"

"Did he fire you?" Stacy blurted out.

"I'm really sorry," Kristen apologized to her EP at the same time.

"I wouldn't be holding a staff meeting tomorrow morning if he had, would I?" Mac looked at the sorry group of people, shaking her head. "Everything's alright, ok? No one's getting fired. Now stop apologizing and go home. I want you awake and alert for the meeting in the morning, so no pity parties tonight, ok? We've got a lot of ground to cover."

They looked at her unconvinced.

"Well, I'm leaving and if you know what's good for you, you'll follow my suit. Trust me, you don't want to be still here when Will gets back from Jack. So, night everyone."

The producers mumbled their good-byes and were still staring at the door, when Will stalked out into the bullpen, looking like a man on a mission.

"What are you looking at?" He growled, "I thought Mackenzie told you to go home and be here early?"

"Yessir!" The producers scattered like ants.

* * *

Jackson was already waiting behind his desk for Will. When the news anchor poked his head in, he simply rolled back his chair and crossed his arms.

"You're pissed," Will started but trailed off when he saw the grim look on the D.C. bureau chief's face.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Jackson looked at his friend disapprovingly, "You told a U.S. senator to go fuck himself?"

" _Congressman_ ," Will corrected him, "and I told him to get lost not fuck himself."

"Do you really think he noticed the difference in semantics?"

Will shrugged his shoulders non-chalantly.

"What the hell have you and Mackenzie done to my newsroom?"

"Look," the news anchor scrubbed his face, "everyone knows they fucked up big time. I mean there's literally no one down there who doesn't think his or her job isn't in jeopardy at the moment. They learned their lesson."

"I should hope so!" Jackson thundered, "How the fuck did this travesty of a debate even happen?"

"Honestly, I don't know yet but we have a staff meeting tomorrow morning and I fully intend to get to the bottom of it."

"Where's Mackenzie? Why isn't she here with you?"

"I sent her home."

George raised an eyebrow at Will's overprotective stance.

"She told me she personally supervised the pre-interview and nothing seemed out of the ordinary."

"Who did the pre-interview?"

Will cocked his head and crossed his arms defensively.

"You're not going to tell me," Jackson nodded. "You know what I think? None of this would've happened if Mac had a capable senior producer at her side. She's spread herself too thin trying to do everything. She needs to learn to delegate, which is why I have hired a new senior producer for your show."

"What the hell, Jack?!? I'm the managing editor..." Will protested but George cut him off.

"You had weeks to find a replacement," Jack waved him off, "spare me the drama. You didn't even look for one. I warned you guys what would happen if you kept putting me off."

"You can't do that."

"Already did," George retorted, "he's already on his way from LA as we currently speak. It's a done deal."

"Mac's gonna be pissed."

"She'll learn to live with it."

Will shook his head disappointed.

"There was nothing I could do, Will. Someone tipped off the suits in Atlanta, they watched parts of the train wreck. I got the call ten minutes ago. It was the only way to save our face."

The news anchor nodded.

"I'll call Mac to let her know."

"No," Will shook his head, "I'll tell her. I think it's better if she hears it from me."

* * *

Ever since she had kissed Will in his office, Mac had been drifting on a cloud. She had no idea how she got home. The Metro ride was a blur but thankfully her feet carried her home on autopilot. With a dreamy look and a goofy smile on her face, she flopped onto the couch and relived every moment in his bathroom. Jackson's intrusive calls were a blessing in disguise because she was not sure about the sound proof status of Will's office. 

And if there was one thing she was dead certain of, it was their inability to keep quiet the first time they were intimate after such a long dry spell. She wasn't usually loud in bed but Will had a way of coaxing sounds out of her throat with his lips and fingers she didn't know she was capable of making. She couldn't really blame him, though, because she loved making him gasp and moan just as much. She wouldn't be surprised if tonight ended in a competition between them to see who could make the other one lose control faster.

Maybe a few arrangements were in order to ensure at least the pretense of romance for their passionate reunion. She dragged herself off the couch and over to the kitchen to peruse her small but fine wine collection. Her fingers hovered between the imported bottles of chardonnay, pinot gris, pinot noir and merlot indecisively. There would neither be enough time to let the reds aerate before Will hopefully arrived nor chill any of the whites properly. In the end, she reached for her favorite pinot noir just because and put it in the fridge for a few minutes to lower the room temperature a little bit.

In the meantime, she could go brush her teeth. And probably gargle with mouthwash to completely eradicate any stubborn remnants of garlic in her breath... 

* * *

Except for the revelation at the end, Will's meeting with Jackson had gone better than anticipated. He'd probably wait until after they rekindled the physical aspect of their romance to tell Mac about the new senior producer. Shit, he'd forgotten to ask his name. She'd surely want to know so she can google him. Oh, she'd be pissed, all right, and probably go off on a rant, while his chances of getting lucky tonight would slowly slip away. No, definitely bed first, talk second.

Besides, based on his - granted - limited experience, she was a lot more pliant and a lot less combative after she had been fully sated. And he intended on meeting each and every one of her sexual desires tonight, leaving her putty in his hands. And if he brought her chocolates, she might not even bite his head off when he told her about the staff change. Which is why Will McAvoy found himself braving the afternoon rush at the local Walmart up the street from their office. 

Passing the assortment of chewing gums at the checkout aisle, he remembered his bad breath and nabbed a pack of Wrigley's Spearmint. She hadn't complained but it wouldn't hurt him to show up smelling fresh. The cashier gave Will a shit-eating grin as he dragged the small pack of gum, expensive Swiss chocolates, and box of condoms over the scanner. The news anchor took some solace in the near-certainty that the pimple-faced teenager was unlikely to watch the news and recognize him.

Will paid for his purchases quickly and headed back out on the street. He unwrapped the gum and popped two pieces into his mouth, paused and then shrugged his shoulders, before he added a third one just to be safe. He strutted down the sidewalk on his way to the next Metro stop, when he passed a large glass front on the corner building. Turning his head, he checked his looks in the reflection and ran his fingers through his hair for good measure. It was only then that he noticed he was still wearing his studio clothes. The spring in his step disappeared as he considered going back to the office to change. But Mackenzie was already waiting and, damn, he looked good in his Armani suit. Will stopped to admire his appearance. He had to hand it to Mackenzie. She really knew how to make him look hot. And she'd get a special kick out of pulling off the tie she'd helped him put on earlier. So...that settled _that_ question.

He was just about to leave, when movement in the bar and grill broke the reflection and allowed Will to see the interior. God dammit, he cursed quietly. He considered walking away, he hadn't been made and nobody would ever know he'd been here, but then thought the better of it.

* * *

Humming to herself, Mackenzie shimmied around her bedroom, still wearing her bathrobe. She had decided there was enough time for a quick shower so she could shave her legs. Spread out before her on the bed now were three different sets of underwear, matching black lace bra and panties, a white silk negligee, and a sexy red babydoll. First World problems. Which one would Will pick? She couldn't wait to see Will's look on his face when she opened the door for him in black lace! Or white silk? Black lace it is, she finally decided, figuring the negligee and babydoll probably would be overdoing it just a tad for a first date. Though, technically, this wasn't their first time, even though it felt a little bit like that for her.

Mac got dressed and carefully touched up her make-up, before she returned to the living room. She headed straight to the stereo system and scanned her alphabetized CD collection for something suitable for the evening. She was well aware of Will's chops as a musician, so she didn't want to pick something he'd make fun of. She plucked the Beatles' _Number One_ off the shelf. Can't go wrong with that one, can you? 

While John Lennon filled her apartment with the sounds of harmonica, Mac took out the bottle of red and opened it to let the wine breathe. Will should be here any minute now, unless Jackson read him the full riot act. She picked up her phone and fired off a text message to Will. 

 **Where are you? Is Jackson still reaming**  
**you out? Shall I send in reinforcements?**

* * *

"Hey," Will plunked down on the bar stool next to the young guy staring numbly at the full glass of scotch in front of him.

Wesley's head shot up surprised, "Hey."

Will signaled two beers to the bartender while the producer reached for a napkin.

"Let me save you the trouble," Wes announced, as he pulled out his pen, and scribbled something down on the thin paper serviette. He slid it over to Will, before he knocked back half of his scotch. 

Will read Wesley's notice and shook his head, then dunked the improvised letter of resignation into the AP's remaining scotch.

Wes immediately protested, "Hey!"

"You'll thank me in the morning," Will replied sounding just a little patronizing. Wesley wasn't sure if his boss meant his choice of hard liquor on a nearly empty stomach or his resignation. 

"I'm sorry I let you and Mac down. I don't know how I missed it."

"Relax, Tonto, I didn't come in here to fire you."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Spotted you in here accidentally on my way home," Will shrugged his shoulders. He thanked the barkeeper for the two pints and waited until they were alone again. "Just want to make sure you don't do anything stupid tonight."

"Like mixing my liquors?" Wes scoffed.

"Beer before liquor, never been sicker," Will started.

Wes grumbled, "... liquor before beer, you're in the clear. Yeah, I know."

"Look," Will clasped the young man's shoulder, "don't spend your evening brooding over what that jackass said. Hollis is just a stupid, ignorant bigot. There's nothing wrong with you."

Wesley's shoulders tensed immediately, "How'd you know?"

Will tilted his head slightly, "Caught you slinking off from the corner of my eye in the bullpen. I'd recognize that look of shame and self-disgust anywhere."

The young AP's eyebrows shot up surprised, "Oh my god, Will! Does Mackenzie know?"

"Did you tell her?"

"What?" Wes looked at his boss completely baffled, "No! Of course not. When would I have told her you're gay? I only just found out!"

"Wait?" Will's eyes widened, "Why'd you think I'm gay?"

"Because you just said you'd... never mind, my mistake."

"Not that there's anything wrong with being gay..." the news anchor added quickly. His cell phone beeped with an incoming text. "That's my girlfriend."

The corner of Wesley's mouth twitched amused, "uh-huh."

"No, seriously," Will insisted. He quickly scanned the message and typed out a response.

_**On my way. Can't wait to be inside you.** _

_**You know how to get a girl in the mood.** _

_**Don't start without me, I'll be there ASAP.**_

The newscaster looked up into the shit-eating grin of his AP, "What?"

"Big plans?" Wesley nodded at the box of condoms that had fallen out of Will's pocket when he pulled out his phone.

"Oh goddammit!" The newscaster cursed as he snatched the rubbers out of the younger man's hands and stuffed them back into his pocket. "Look...." the news anchor trailed off.

"Wesley," the young AP supplied helpfully.

"Right, Wesley. Listen, I know things can get rough and there might be times where you feel you'll never fit in anywhere because of people like Hollis but I want to remind you that there are people who care about you. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"With all due respect, Will, you know shit. You have no idea what it's like to listen to your father villyfying 'those faggots' with his friends like it's a goddamn sport, knowing he really means you, too."

"No," Will nodded, "you're right. I don't. Except I do. A little bit."

Wesley scoffed.

"I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska. My father thought you could beat the gayness out of people, which is just what he did when he caught two teenage boys kissing behind our barn one day."

"Did he get arrested?"

"No, but one of the boys went to the hospital. Fucking sheriff damn near hung a medal around the old man's neck."

"Those were the times, huh?" Wesley scoffed sarcastically before he took a swig of his beer.

"You haven't told your parents yet? Not even your mom?"

"With all due respect, Will," Wes set down his beer, "I appreciate what you're doing here but I'd rather not talk about this with my boss."

"Fair enough," the news anchor studied the younger man's face for a long moment, before he reached for his wallet, "but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone," Will pulled out a business card, "maybe when you're down on your luck and everything just seems pointless," he flipped it around and scribbled down a number on the back, "and you could use advice from someone who's been there and done that," he slid the card over, "you call this number before you do anything rash."

"That's a Chicago area code," Wes noted surprised as he picked up the card and studied the name and number.

"Yeah, I know. He teaches design at the Art Institute of Chicago. Just mention my name and he'll have an open ear for you day or night."

"That the kid your dad beat up? The one he put in hospital?"

"No," Will shook his head, "he died in the eighties. One of the first victims of AIDS." 

"So does your gay roommate from college know you're giving out his private number like some kind of help hotline to lost gay boys in the closet?"

"My roommate in college was a 300 pound fullback who screwed a different girl every night until I moved out," Will deadpanned.

"Bastard," Wes tried to deflect with a joke, "couldn't even leave you the scraps?"

"Oh," Will grinned smugly, "he left some for me, alright."

"That how you earned your stripes as a ladies' man?"

Will checked his watch and swiped his wallet, before he tapped the card on the bar, "Day or night, got it?" He looked at the young man sternly.

"Okay, okay." Wes appeased him.

"Good," Will searched his wallet for a twenty dollar bill to cover their drinks, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night."

"Night," Will paused for a moment, unsure if he should put his producer in a cab, but then decided he trusted Wesley to do the right thing and turned to leave.

"Will?" Wes called out.

The newscaster stopped and turned around.

"Who's Michael?" He read the name of the card.

"My baby brother."

* * *

Mackenzie sat on her couch staring at her clock. She'd long put on a bathrobe, waiting for Will to show up. He'd texted her he'd be there as fast as he could. That was over half an hour ago. She checked the news wires for alerts on the Metro. Nothing. She'd even tidied up her apartment, so he wouldn't think she was a total slob. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the open wine bottle breathing in the kitchen. 

She got up and poured herself a glass. On her way back to her couch, she nabbed her laptop off the counter and decided to pass the time with work until Will arrived. After all, she had an early morning staff meeting to prepare for. Might as well type up some key items for tomorrow's agenda. She tried to put herself into Jackson's shoes to anticipate what he might have already said to Will and would tell her tomorrow. The outcome of today's show had her a little stumped. Not only the egregious appearance of Shawn Hollis but Will's complete lack of professional demeanor. First he had let the debate get away from him, and then he tried to overcompensate for his mistake by verbally attacking the congressman. But it wouldn't be fair of her to shift all the blame to him. She'd failed him as his EP today.

It didn't bode well for their personal relationship if he no longer trusted her professionally after today's fiasco. Sure, he'd said it in the heat of the moment and may not have meant it, but his words had still hurt her. Had he only promoted her because he wanted her to feel indebted to him? No, she shook her head quickly, that was not the kind of man she'd come to know over the last two years. If he hadn't truly believed that she had what it took to do the job, he would've never brought up her name. And yet, their confrontation earlier reminded her of everything that was at stake between them. There was no use in deluding themselves that they could keep their personal and professional lives separate, which inevitably meant that if one failed for whatever reason, the other one would be collateral damage. So what the fuck were they doing?

Maybe that was the reason why Will hadn't shown up yet. Perhaps he had second thoughts, too, and was not man enough to tell her face to face. Come to think of it, why had he not called her to tell her he was on his way and just sent a text back? Sure, she'd texted him first but she hadn't known if he was done with Jackson yet and didn't want to disturb them. Oh my God, what if he'd gone straight home from work and turned off his phone to avoid her? Mac closed her eyes. She needed a plan B if dating Will ended on a sour note. She couldn't continue to work with him if he didn't trust her - personally or professionally - anymore. She'd moved to DC for Brian and after they'd broken up, the only thing that had kept her in the city was her job. If things with Will didn't work out, maybe it would be time to go back to her old dream and pursue a career as a reporter-producer in the field.  

* * *

"Is that why you flew off the handle today?" Wesley asked his boss. Both men were now back at the bar talking while nursing their beers side by side.

Will harrumphed, "I didn't lose my temper."

"Not what I heard," Wes scoffed, "word is you told Hollis to go fuck himself."

"Fucking rumors," Will scowled, "I told him to get the fuck out of my studio."

"Tomayto, tomahto."

Will chortled.

"So the other kid in your story," Wesley returned to the previous subject and Will just hummed, "it was your brother." It was less of a question than a logical conclusion why Will reacted so strongly to the congressman's insults.

"Yeah."

"And you weren't there to protect him when your father discovered him with his boyfriend and beat the living shit out of him, were you?"

"No," Will swallowed hard.

Wesley nodded quietly. That explained a lot. They sat there for a few moments drinking their beers in silence.

"My old man would kill me," Wes spoke up again, "if he ever found out his only son was gay."

"So you're going to live a lie for the rest of your life?"

"At least I get to live," the young AP deadpanned.

"Yeah, but at what cost?"

Wes just shrugged his shoulders.

"You should tell your parents. If they love you, which I'm sure they do, they'll come around. It may take a while and it may be tough at first but they may just surprise you."

"How do you know?"

"Personal experience." Will shrugged. "Don't think I was thrilled to find out my brother was queer at first. We fought a lot about it. At first I couldn't make any sense of it. I mean, how could you not be attracted to girls? They have breasts and long legs and snug little warm pussies that you can bury your dick in. Honestly, I still don't really get it but over time I came to realize that it didn't really change how I felt about my brother. Even if I can't understand being gay physiologically, I can accept it intellectually. It's just what he likes. I like brunettes with long legs and he likes ... bubble butts - his words not mine. Nothing's really changed. He's still the same sweet kid who'd give you the shirt off his back. And I love him anyway, so, really, nothing else matters."

"And your father?"

The news anchor shook his head, "If he ever did, he sure had funny ways of showing it."

Their phones went off and both men reached into their pockets to check for breaking news alerts.

"It's from Mackenzie," Wes stated as he opened the message.

"Oh shit," Will realized he'd totally lost track of time talking to his young producer. Mac was still waiting at home for him and had probably expected him half an hour ago.

"You can say that aloud," Wes sighed, "did you see her agenda for tomorrow's meeting? It's a mile long."

"Well," Will smirked as he reached for his wallet to settle their tab, "at least you get to be there."

"I don't know, maybe I would've preferred getting fired.I mean she's giving us homework now? What are we in school?"

"Suck it up, Wes, and be a man. I don't care how many mistakes you make as long as you own them like a man."

"That's not what it sounded like when you yelled at everyone in the bullpen."

Will just glared at the young man.

"Which was absolutely justified considering what you had just been through on air."

"Damn right it was," Will nodded, "and just to be clear: We never had this conversation."

"Don't worry your secret's safe with me."

"It better be or I'll write you a reference so bad they wouldn't even let you empty their trash at Fox News."

The news anchor paid for their drinks and then put the AP into a cab to make sure he got home safely.

* * *

"So you do remember where I live," Mac looked Will over as she opened the door and was slightly taken aback by his disheveled state. His tie was crooked, his hair was mussed, as if he'd been running his fingers through it a million times, and his back was slouched against her wall in an exhausted pose. He looked like he'd been through the ringer.

"Before you say anything else," he held up his hand defensively, "I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long."

She raised her eyebrows at him unimpressed.

"And I come bearing gifts," he realized he had to bring out the big guns early, if he wanted to redeem his chances of getting laid tonight. Judging by the yoga pants and old sweatshirt she'd changed into from her work clothes, she'd all but given up on him some time ago. He pulled out the box of chocolates from behind his back and offered it to her with a boyish grin.

"Where'd you get these?" She crossed her arms and refused to take the Lindt confectionery, "Fucking Switzerland?" 

"Walmart's actually." From the narrowing of her eyes, he could tell immediately that was the wrong answer. 

"You went to fucking Walmart's?"

"I had to run an errand after my meeting with Jack."

"What could possibly have been so important that it couldn't wait till later?" She finally accepted the chocolates.

Now, his boyish grin took on decidedly smug qualities, as he pulled the box of condoms wordlessly out of his pocket.

"Oh." She was properly silenced. She opened her mouth but then closed it, lacking an appropriate comeback. Finally she settled on, "You look like hell."

"Which would be a very apt metaphor for rush hour at Walmart's."

"What do you expect? Everyone's getting groceries on their way home."

"I know but, obviously, this," he shook the box of condoms for good measure, "was  _very_  important."

"What makes you think I don't have any in my nightstand?" 

Will gave her a horrified look and stated indignantly, "I'm not taking Brian's leftovers!"

"Who says they're Brian's? We live in the new millenium, can't a girl keep her own stock?" She glanced at the Magnum Trojans and pursed her lips, "His wouldn't fit you anyway."

When his chest puffed out a little bit, the corners of her mouth twitched amused. Male egos were so predictable and easy to please! She shook her head, smiling at him. Sensing her beginning forgiveness, Will capitalized immediately on her change of heart.

"So," he wiggled his eyebrows and stepped forward, "are you going to ask me to come inside?"

"Oh, definitely," she grabbed his lapels, "I'm banking on you coming inside."

Will groaned at her play on words. He lowered his head and brushed his lips over her mouth. Mac stepped back and pulled him with her into her apartment. Without breaking their kiss, he reached behind him blindly for the door and slammed it shut. His hands gravitated to her hips, pulling her close, so he could rub his arousal against her crotch. The Swiss chocolate fell onto the floor with a muffled thud when Mackenzie slid her arms around his neck. Their kiss was just as passionate as the one earlier, even though it lacked the urgency. She savored it anyway but something at the back of her mind put her on alert.

"Mmm," Will hummed against her lips, "you taste like wine."

She mumbled against his mouth, "And you like beer." Something clicked and she pulled back and gave him accusatory glare, "Actually you smell like a whole fucking bar!" Will sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Are you fucking kidding me now? I'm waiting here for ages and you go out for a beer with Jackson?"

"Technically it was Wesley."

"Oh  _that_  makes it so much better," she retorted sarcastically. 

"I was on my way back from Walmart's and spotted him inside this dive bar."

She cocked her head, "I swear to God, Billy, if you went inside that place to fire the poor kid over..."

"No, of course not!" He cut in and gave her a hurt look. "I just wanted to check up on him. You didn't see the look on his face when he slunk out of the bullpen while we were fighting in the office. I had to make sure he wasn't going to do something stupid fueled by cheap Scotch and shame."

Her features softened immediately, "So you went inside to give him a pep talk."

Will wriggled his head before he nodded, "Yeah. I only meant to stay for one beer, since I was already on my way to see you."

"He's taking it really hard, isn't he?"

"He thinks he's let us down."

"That's stupid!" Mac countered immediately, "He didn't do anything wrong. If I couldn't catch it, how the hell was he supposed to notice?"

"That's exactly what I told him but I think he'll need to hear it from you again tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Mac nodded, "I'll schedule a one-on-one with him before our staff meeting."

"So," Will stepped once again into her personal space again and wrapped his arms around her waist, "am I forgiven?"

She kept him in suspense for a few moments longer, wearing her best poker face, while she absorbed his presence. Her eyes roamed the broad expanse of his masculine chest. Damn, he was looking hot, even in his disheveled suit and crooked tie. She wanted nothing more than undress him and feel his naked body press her into the mattress, so she leaned in and smiled.

"Yeah, you're back in my good graces," she rubbed noses with his, "but only because you went out of your comfort zone and bonded with someone on your staff."

"Good," he was so close, she felt his breath on her lips, "because you're on my staff, too, and I've been  _really_  looking forward to  _bonding_  with you tonight."

"Oh," her whole face lit up with a smile that made her eyes crinkle, "is that what the cool kids are calling it nowadays?"

"Will you finally shut up, so I can kiss you?" He palmed her jawbone and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. She nodded and he growled, "God, I want you," before his lips descended onto her mouth. She deepened the kiss quickly, both of them savoring each stroke of their tongues and every brush of their lips. He walked them down the hallway to her bedroom. Mac loved the way he kissed her. His lips moved firm but gentle against hers, his finger tips grazed her sides until her skin tingled. He definitely knew what he was doing. Every nerve ending in her body was heightened with sensation, responding instantly to his caresses.

They reached the bedroom and Will tossed the box of condoms casually on the nightstand. He shrugged off his jacket while Mac pulled her sweatshirt over her head. With that major obstacle out of the way, they went back to making out. Their hands roamed across each other's body, pushing down sweatpants and pulling out shirt tails. As predicted, Mackenzie took great pleasure in loosening his tie. She moved backwards until she felt the mattress behind her knees. So she quickly climbed it, pulling Will by the ends of his tie up on the bed with her.

He kissed her hard, pushing her back into the covers. She reached behind her, swiping the pillows of the bed for more space. Will hovered over her, openly enjoying the view of having her sprawled half-naked under him. "God, you're beautiful," he crooned as he kissed her neck. She moaned and turned her head to give him better access. "So fucking beautiful," he hummed before he licked her skin with his tongue.

She squirmed beneath him, rubbing against his erection. Will propped himself up on one arm and slid her bra strap over her shoulder. He nipped her clavicle and then soothed the red spot on her skin with slow circles of his tongue. Mac sighed deeply and raked her fingers through his hair on the back of his head. He pulled her bra cup down and moved his lips to her nipple. This time she cried out and arched her back. Will teased the hardening bud with the tip of his tongue until she was writhing below him deliriously.

Her breathing became labored as his lips continued his descent down her stomach to the waistband of her yoga pants. He sat back on his heels and hooked his thumbs into it on either hip and tugged the smooth fabric down her long legs. She giggled when he flung them carelessly aside, so he could dive back in to take care of her panties. He kissed her hips and pelvis through the lace. There was a wet trail on the lace in her crotch, barely noticeable with the eye, but he felt the moisture on his lips when they wandered down. Her scent filled his nostrils even more, when he pushed the fabric to the side and licked her pussy once.

Mac flinched and snapped her legs together instantly. She laughed nervously and reached down to pull his head back up. He propped himself up on one arm and reached for his belt. Mac's fingers flew to his zipper and pulled it down, while he unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned his slacks. She reached into his fly and squeezed his cock through his boxers. God, he was hard like a rock. Will pushed down his pants to his ankles.

Clad in only his boxers now, Will hovered above her and reached between her legs. She cried out, when his fingers parted her labia. Mac fished his cock out of his boxers and stroked him slowly. They kissed each other fiercely until they had break apart for oxygen. Will pressed his face against her cheek with a grunt because she was smearing his pre-come around his cock head. He latched on to her other nipple and gave it the same treatment its twin had received minutes ago. In addition he rubbed his thumb over her clit, driving her closer to the edge.

"I want you inside me, Billy," Mac mumbled and abandoned his cock in favor of his shirt, which she unbuttoned quickly. "I want to feel you inside me," she repeated before she began trailing hot kisses over his chest. Will tried to wrestle his shirt off impatiently and ended up entangled in the sleeves. He sat up on his heels frustrated, flapping his arms like a helpless baby bird.

"Stop," Mac admonished him and got up to help him, "if you tear it, you'll get us into trouble with wardrobe."

"Oh no," Will rolled his eyes and grumbled sarcastically, "we don't want to blow it with Tweedledee and Tweedledum."

"Shut it," she shoved his chest gently but because he was perched precariously on his heels, he lost his balance and because his hands were still caught in his shirt, he couldn't break his fall backwards. 

"Oh my God," he hand flew to her mouth, when his head barely missed her headboard, "I'm sorry." Will looked at her completely baffled, still startled by what had just happened. 

"Are you hurt?"

"No," he shook his head slowly, "but could you..." he tried to hold up his arms.

"Sure," she helped him upright, "I'm so, so sorry."

"I'm fine, Mackenzie, really." He held her gaze for a moment.

Suddenly she snorted and in between giggles she explained, "You look like you're wearing a straight jacket... backwards."

He chuckled, "Well, if anything, we've settled who's the boss in bed." 

He winced when she freed him from his wardrobe contraption.

"Are your sure you're alright?"

"Well," he drawled, "my elbow hurts a little. Maybe you can kiss it better?"

He held his bare arm up and Mac pressed a delicate kiss on it.

She looked up and smiled at him, "There, all better."

"And here," he indicated his clavicle.

She leaned down pressed her lips against his skin again.

"And here," his finger pointed to his nipple.

Mac raised an eyebrow, "That's not really where you fell."

"But it'll ease the pain."

"Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes but caressed his nipple anyway. He sighed happily. "Anywhere else?"

He nodded and glanced down to his crotch.

"Don't overdo it, Billy," she warned him.

"Was worth a try," he muttered.

Mac's lips followed the thin trail of hair from his navel to the waistband of his boxers anyway. She carefully tucked his cock back into the fly, so she could remove his underwear more easily. Will lifted his hips to help her, while he already reached for the box of condoms on the nightstand.

Mac ran her fingertips lightly along his shaft, making him hiss. Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, Will hurried and fished a wrapper out and tossed the box back on the small bedside table. He was already oozing a steady trail of pre-come and, when she scooped up the drop that had formed at the crown, he reached the end of his rope.

"I'm sorry, Mackenzie," he groaned and shook his head, "I'm not gonna last."

She let go of him and ditched her own panties while she watched him roll the rubber carefully down his shaft. 

He smiled at her bashfully, "You're just too damn sexy."

"And you're just too damn fuckable," she announced as she swung one leg over his thighs. He looked at her with wide eyes, a little startled by her brazen claim to the driver's seat. His hips bucked involuntarily and she couldn't wait to impale herself on that magnificent cock of his.

Will watched dazed as she straddled his lap and lowered herself just enough so that her pussy grazed the tip of his condom. He groaned as she teased him mercilessly until he finally couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed her hips. Holding her still, he felt her lips begin to engulf his cock head. She gasped unprepared for the gentle intrusion. There was a small smirk on his face when he looked up from their joining bodies straight into her beautiful eyes. They had turned into dark pools of chocolate from arousal.

"God, you're so beautiful," he mumbled before he strained his neck for a deep and intimate kiss.

Fuck, he was big. Her muscles stretched to accommodate the thick mushroom head until it was firmly lodged inside her. She couldn't hold back the guttural moan anymore; the feeling of him filling her was just too good. Their eyes met and she raked her hands over his pectorals, feeling his muscles flex under her touch. He met her halfway for a slow burning kiss when she leaned forward to kiss him again.

The motion caused his cock to slide out, eliciting a long and satisfied moan from Mackenzie as he rubbed over her g-spot. She started to rock her hips softly, trying to satisfy her insatiable lust. She'd missed this. Having a man inside her. Watching his eyelids flutter as he tried to control his primal instinct to fuck her. Waiting for his eyes to roll back when he gave up and released his seed inside her, a completely helpless victim to the movement of her hips. But for now, he pushed back in with a grunt. She threw her head back and bit her lower lip, as she rolled her hips rhythmically over his. Her breasts bounced up and down, mesmerizing Will's eyes.

He let his hands glide across her body, from her hips to her stomach and then up to her small but beautiful breasts. She gasped when he squeezed each mound gently. His thumbs rubbed circles along her areolae, carefully avoiding her stiff nipples. He was driving her crazy. And then he sat up and his mouth latched onto one nipple, while his fingers tweaked the other one.

Mac raked her teeth over her lower lip to stifle her scream. He looked up through hooded lids and slowly released her tit.

"Don't do that," he reached up and ran his thumb over her lower lip, "you'll draw blood."

"Can't help it, Will," she slurred her words slightly; a sure sign he'd soon come to learn that she was holding on to her composure with her last few shreds of self-control, "feels so damn good."

"I know, baby," he crooned, "just let it out."

She cupped the back of his head and pressed his face into the valley between her breasts. Will licked the sweat off her skin greedily while her fingers twisted strands of his hair roughly.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned his name, "you're gonna make me come."

"Right behind you," he confessed before he swirled his tongue over her hard nipple. She rode him faster whimpering and sighing. He held her tightly in his arms, sucking her breasts noisily.

"Kiss me, Billy," she begged him and he lifted his head. She looked down at him, lips parted and tongue poised behind her front teeth, ready to strike. He could feel the familiar pull in his groin, the tell-tale sign that he was fast approaching his own point of no return. But first he had to make sure, she reached hers first. So he snuck a hand between their bodies and rubbed his thumb over her clit just as his lips closed in on hers. His mouth swallowed her guttural moan as she cried out. Her pussy clamped down on his shaft, trying to suck his cock in deeper with her rhythmical contractions, if that was even possible.

The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated until she broke away gasping for air. He went back to kissing her breast.

"Oh my God," she gasped, "oh fuuuuck," another moan, "oh, Wiiill!"

Will was in seventh heaven, watching her come apart in his arms. Her body went finally limp and slumped back, so Will flipped her on her back.

"Will!" She squealed surprised, "How'd you do that?"

"Practice makes perfect," he replied smugly and drove into her relentlessly, chasing his own orgasm. She sighed and moaned in post-coital bliss while he continued to lick and kiss her neck and throat. His breaths came out in short and forced pangs as he thrust into her deeply, again and again. 

"Oh Mackenzie," he groaned as he felt his cock surge, "oh, yes, oh my God, oh yes, oh Mackenzie." With one final stroke, he pressed his face into her neck. His harsh breath was hot against her sweaty skin but she didn't mind. The great Will McAvoy reduced to a few animalistic grunts by a little English girl, she smiled and kissed his temple. She ran her fingers soothingly up and down his back until he got his bearings.

He propped himself up and looked into her eyes. She reached up and pushed the rogue strands of hair on his forehead back. He nestled his head into her palm as they smiled at each other. Will lowered his head again to kiss her longingly. Eventually they had to let go of each other, so they could fill their lungs with oxygen again. He ran his finger gently down her cheek.

She studied his face carefully. He looked twenty years younger and had that goofy smile on his face that just screamed he just had mind-blowing sex. Did she really do that to him? Suddenly she broke out into giggles. 

His bright blue eyes bore into her, "What?"

"Nothing, just..." she trailed off and shook her head while her hand slid down his cheek. A small smile played around his lips, as her fingers curled around his jawbone. 

"Yeah," Will hummed and leaned in for another kiss. They made out until he started to soften. Mac sighed regretfully as he reached between their bodies to hold the condom in place while he pulled out. He placed one more kiss on the tip of her nose before he rolled off her. 

"Bathroom?"

She was still too blissed out to give accurate directions, so she pointed vaguely in the direction of the bathroom door. Will chuckled and leaned down to kiss her mouth, before he got out of bed. She stretched lazily as she watched him pull off the condom on his way into the bathroom. With a happy sigh, she dragged herself out of bed as well to use loo when he returned all cleaned up.

They smiled at each other wordlessly and awkwardly. So. That happened. Mac bought herself a few more minutes with washing her hands to figure out what to say when she went back into the bedroom. Whatever she had prepared though got stuck in her throat when she saw him buttoning his shirt.

"You're leaving already?"

"Yeah," he looked up, "I can't show up in today's studio clothes tomorrow and some crazy colleague at work scheduled a staff meeting at the crack of dawn, so..." he shrugged his shoulders.

"Right," she smiled and hoped it didn't look as forced as it felt. 

Will studied the expression on her face while he looped his tie around his neck. "You don't regret your decision already, do you?"

"What?" Her eyes widened, "No, Will! Absolutely not!" She stepped forward and helped him with the tie. God, he looked sexy with his shirt tails out and the loose tie around his neck. She was in a right mind to drag him back to bed and fuck his brains out completely, until he was incapacitated completely. She came out of her reverie and saw him grinning at her. "What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged his shoulders, before he leaned in to kiss her, "it's good to know I won't be the only one suffering during broadcasts anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you just looked at me..." he pecked her lips again, "I just know you're gonna get wet in the control room while you watch me deliver the news in this suit and tie from now on."

Mac groaned because he was probably right. And he was way too smug about it.


End file.
